


Sola Gratia

by sam_nexel



Category: Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Dracula (BBC) - Freeform, Dracula (Bram Stoker), Dracula (Castlevania) - Freeform, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Gen, Multi, Slow Burn, Vampire x Human, Vary various vampire lore in there but mostly Bram Stoker's Dracula, dracula x OC, i'm writing this for me but y'all can read it if you want, vampire, vampire x OC, very much unlike a dracula in direct sunlight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 42,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam_nexel/pseuds/sam_nexel
Summary: Exhausted by her work on her thesis, Eris decides to take a trip to Romania, hoping the Wallachian mountains, the nature, and the silence, will help her resource herself. She didn’t expect getting caught in a storm, didn’t expect finding shelter in an old castle, and didn’t expect for it to be inhabited.
Relationships: Dracula/OC
Comments: 117
Kudos: 181





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of god knows how many. Ask me if you want to be in the tag list ! Comments, feedback, and sharing are very appreciated, as this is the first thing I’m actually posting :) Hope you enjoy !

A streak of silver split the sky open, slithering out along the heavy clouds a moment before fading into darkness. Crouched in a small cavity I could barely fit in, I buried my face further into my scarf. The pouring rain had cut through all my layers of clothes. I wondered if I would ever get any sensations back to my toes. Or my fingers. Would it have killed me to check the weather this morning? It would, wouldn't it? My phone still stubbornly refused to give out any signal, and it was a 7 hour trek back to the nearest village. I was, as we like to call it in academia, royally fucked.

According to my map, there were no man-made structures anywhere close-by, which made sense as the Tourist Office map carefully outlined that the entire zone was restricted. Something about wolf attacks. Or was it bears? If you ask me, some sheep got eaten by a local dog, superstition got there and that was the end of it. Then again, if you tempt me with a quiet, people-less trek in the middle of nowhere, well, of course I'll bite. Even if I could get help, I had no idea what kind of trouble I'd be in for going so far into The Forbidden Mountain. It wasn't like I could sit here forever, at least not if I wanted to finish my life in any other way than hypothermia, or lightning-roasted like a crisp chicken wing. I stood up, only banging my head on the rocky overhang  _ a little _ , and tried to get back to the path. I mean, if there  _ was _ a path, there had to be at least some kind of lodge. Right now, I'd go with any kind of creepy little cabin, as long as it had a roof.

Raising my head, I suddenly noticed a flickering red light, through the blinding white of the lightnings. A campfire? Unlikely. Maybe the cabin I hoped for, and with company. Maybe an axe murderer. Who knew? At least, that way of dying would be original. Would make for a sexier news title than “dumbass french tourist dies struck by lightning in mountains she was  _ clearly _ told to keep out from”.

Struggling not to slip onto the muddy, mossy wet stone as I paced forwards, I couldn't help but shiver under the biting cold wind and the pouring rain, stinging my face like so many needles. Considering the deep darkness the heavy clouds cast on the mountain, it would be a minor miracle if I didn't die, tripping on a murderous root before I reached the salutary orange light.

Rather than sinuous path I had followed all along my trek, I noticed a smooth, very worn path, almost straight through the forest, even though the stones were leveled by trees every once in a while. I figured it had to lead to  _ something _ , and started following it. After a moment, it came to a clearing that led to a more desolate part of the mountain Even the tall pine tress that already had replaced the tortuous oaks seemed to vanish, if you didn’t account from fallen trunks and dead stumps. Raising my head, I used my hands as a visor to ward off the rain. I noticed what I'd been calling a cabin was way too big to be called that. Perched on a rocky outcrop, it didn't need much protection considering the cliffs surrounding it. It almost looked like one of those optical illusions, with impossible stairs and unlikely architecture. The vacillating light was still there, casting an orange glow through the windows. If there was no axe murderer, there  _ had _ to be a vengeful spirit of some kind. There, knew I should have taken some salt with me, or a giant cross, or a ouija board.

Not deterred by the sinister appearance of the building, I kept on going through the path, sinuously climbing up the mountain ridge. It finally came to a plateau as my legs were about to give out. Out of the cover of the trees, the rain seemed even worse, and I struggled to even walk. All around, ruined houses of wood and stone had crumbled, as if abandoned for centuries. I usually enjoyed ghost towns, but this one made me fairly uneasy. Was this the actual reason the mountain was restricted? Did I walk into some kind of biohazard situation? Just in case, I raised my scarf to cover my nose, as if it would do any good if I were to catch the plague or something. Except for the howling wind and rain, and the occasional deafening thunder, everything was silent. No one lived there, as far as I could see, except for the light, further up, in the castle. I wondered if I should just take shelter in one of the houses, and call it a day, but the possibility of a warm fire was over any kind of haunting this might involve.

I paced down the street. Some of the buildings seemed like they housed a large variety of artisans, before. Glass bottles full of unidentified, mostly rotten things, or dried herbs, some half faded paint on wooden signs hanging above the main entrances. Felt even more uneasy. Some doors, hanging open. Carts with broken wheels, still loaded with crates. Didn't look like anything was pillaged. What the hell happened here? When? Not like the weather would allow for a newspaper to survive, but… On the ground, near one of the shops, a glint of silver caught my eye. Small coin. Squinting a little, I was able to make out the crest. Local, obviously, maybe 14th, 15th century? Well, that would explain the decrepitude of the place. 

At the end of the “main street”, a gigantic hardwood door was the sole opening of the stone wall defending the castle. It was in a surprisingly in good shape, considering the rest of it. It still looked like it hadn't moved in a while, left ajar, barely enough to let me through. It opened on a vast yard, all but the central path invaded by weeds and saplings, the walls overrun with ivy and moss. My heart thumping hard into my chest, I approached the main entrance, two carved wooden doors standing atop a few stairs. Gathering all my courage, I lifted the bronze hand figure, and knocked down three times on the door. I heard the sound resonate on the other side. I waited a moment, and as I was about to knock, the door clattered loudly, before slowly swinging open in a long, ominous creak. Hesitant, I took a deep breath, and slipped into the hall. Seeing no one, I pushed the door back, and it clicked as it closed. Maybe I had just locked myself in. Well, I was raised to be polite and close the doors not to let in drafts, something that still applied to axe murderers and their homes. Apparently.

“Hello ? Is anyone home?”, I asked in a very approximative romanian.

No response.  _ Someone _ had to have opened the door, right? Right. The hall was eerily quiet, considering the rain hammering at the windows. Surprisingly enough, everything seemed rather clean. No dust, or overwhelming presence of spider webs, no broken windows as far as I could see. I put down my heavy bag on the floor, against the main door. At the end of the hall, a large corridor ran deeper into the castle, softly lit by the same orange glow that led me here in the first place. I decided, despite my howling preservation instinct, to go toward the light, drawn like a moth to a flame.

I tucked my dripping wet hair behind my ears. Being out of the storm made me realise just how cold I was exactly. My clothes were completely soaked, sticking to my skin like a layer of ice. I didn't bother even looking into my bag for a change. The corridor was long, and the windows on the left wall gave a vertiginous view of the valley and the forest, illuminated only by the intermittent lighting strikes. The trees were so far down below I elected to keep my eyes away from the abyss. The hardwood floor, covered by a reddish carpet, creaked as I walked. So much for being discreet. I felt watched, but put this on the count of my paranoia.

The corridor ended on a large room, a bit bigger than the main hall. At the end of it, a very large fireplace was lit, which explained the whole thing. From the ceiling, chandeliers made of unusually large deer antlers projected twisted, shifting forms on the walls.

“Is anyone here?”, I asked again, still bound on butchering the romanian language.

No response, again. In front of the fireplace, a terrifyingly large bear pelt was laid on the stone floor, along with a couple of armchairs and sofas. The walls were covered in large tapestries. Above the hearth, a large, bigger than life-size portrait of a man, standing proud, a hint of a smile on his lips. The colors were faded, and the paint had started to crack and chip at the corners. Trusting by his clothes, I would date it somewhere at the turn of the 19 th century. The way it was painted made me feel like he was looking straight at me, which made me feel even more uneasy than I already was.

“I always thought it was a disputable likeness.”


	2. Chapter 2

_ “I always thought it was a disputable likeness.” _

“JE-sus FUCK-”, I spat out as I turned over, stumbling back from shock. How in the hell- I didn’t even hear a goddamn thing, which was concerning given how close he was standing behind me. An eyebrow elegantly arched at my profanity, he seemed to study my figure. I was suddenly very aware of how absolutely dreadful I probably looked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think- I didn’t mean to break in- The door-”, I stammered, somehow unable to find any decent words.

A twinkle of amusement brightened his dark eyes, and he didn’t do me the mercy of saying anything to put me out of my misery. I took a deep breath, and awkwardly held out my hand for him to shake.

“I am Eris Cetero. I got caught in the storm, and saw light. I didn’t know where else to go. I would be eternally grateful for your hospitality, sir.”

A bit dazed that I was able to align so many coherent words, I didn’t even have the time to react when the man gently took my hand in his, and planted a light kiss on my knucles.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Doamna Cetero. I am Count Vlad Balaur, and welcome you into my home.”

I managed to thank him, by God knows what miracle. From the moment our eyes met, he had not moved his gaze, nor did I see him blink, now that I thought about it. A shiver ran down my spine, making me shudder.

“My, you must be freezing. Come, sit by the fire. Do you have anything dry to wear ?”

I shook my head as he led me to one of the sofas facing the hearth, a hand barely hovering over my back.

“My bag is in a sorrier state than I am”, I sheepishly admitted.

“Well, I might be able to find something for you”, he told me with a gentle smile.

“I couldn’t, really, I don’t want to impose-”, I started, but he dismissed my protest with a flick of the hand.

“Nonsense, I will have no one die of pneumonia in this house. Wait for me here, I will soon be back.”

He left the room in long paces, and I followed his tall silhouette as it disappeared into the halls. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that. He did look somewhat close to the portrait, however. I looked up to study it further. The figure was certainly recognizable, tall, some form of nobility in the posture. He was a Count, after all. His hair was neatly laid in elegant black waves across his broad shoulders, so dark it was almost lost to the background. He was obviously younger in the portrait, but still carried as much poise as he did then.

The crackling of the fire almost covered the sound of the rain. A log broke in half in a flurry of embers. The flames licked at the charred wood, and I started to follow their ethereal dance in the darkness. Hugging my knees closer to my chest, I wondered if I shouldn’t drip somewhere else than the Count’s expensive-looking antique sofa. Found myself unable to move, anyway.

My curious host stepped back into the room, dragging me from my drowsiness. He had a pile of neatly folded clothes in hand, and what I assumed was a towel. He was still smiling, which, for some reason, made me a bit uneasy. I shook off the feeling. I mean, he was just an old eccentric man. A little weird at times, but who isn’t?

“I’m afraid you might find the style a bit dated, however, it’s warm and dry, which is what we are looking for, aren’t we?”

He laid the pile next to me, and took his leave, respectfully closing the door behind him. Unsure about what I should do, I still took a look at what he brought. The fabrics were soft, and felt luxurious. Dated indeed. A long wool skirt I just could have worn as a poncho, a thin linen shirt closed by a series of pearl buttons, and a jacket, matching the skirt both in style and warmth. after a sigh, I decided to peel my own clothing off my body. Cold water ran down my back as I slipped my shirt over my shoulders. I decided to keep my underwear, for legitimate and obvious reasons, and put on the outfit the count prepared for me. He even had thrown in a pair of socks and boots, which, curiously, were exactly my size. As I stood up and patted down the skirt, I caught my reflection in a window. There, I was ready to leave for the suffragette rally, whilst my husband slaves away at the vintage car factory. I spun around, and the skirt flared in a very satisfactory manner.

“Are you dressed ? May I come in ?”

The sudden knock on the door nearly made me lose my footing. I caught myself on the back of the sofa, and approved the request. The Count entered, pushing the door with his foot as the carried a wodden tray, holding a steaming kettle and delicate cups. He laid it on a small side table, and turned back towards me, clasping his hands together.

“Aren’t you feeling a tad better now ?”

“Much better, thank you. If I may ask, out of curiosity, where does this dress come from? It’s not very often people have that sort of clothing at home.”

“Well”, he started as he poured tea into a cup. “It is a family home, and I must admit I do not know everyone who ever lived here. It may have been my grandmother’s, or her mother’s.”

He invited me to sit, and handed me a cup, which I accepted gladly. It had a subtle, comforting cinnamon aroma The warmth of the cup was doing wonders for my almost purple hands, slowly regaining a human-like color.

“Eris…”, the Count enunciated, slightly rolling the ‘r’, almost to himself. “What an unusual name. You must have terribly interesting parents.”

“Oh, far worse. Historians”, I scoffed.

“Greek, dare I venture ?”

“Yes. They’re kind fo the reason I am here right now, in a way.”

“Please, indulge an old man.”

He seemed genuinely interested. I guess living in a mountain surrounded by huge “KEEP OUT” signs was bound to make anyone feel starved for any distraction. It was a bit of a challenge not sounding demented as I told him about my family. Strict, absent parents, very demanding concerning school work, insisting on me keeping up with their research. As they were interested in the Classical Greek world, I shifted my interest to the Balkans, which was shocking enough, and became almost disowning when I started a masters in medieval studies. I became a bit estranged to them after that terrible offense.

“Do you still study that field ?”

“Well”, I sighed. “I should hope so. I’m in my second year of doctorate on ‘Archaeological evidence for the conflictual relationships of Balkanic regions and the Ottoman Empire during the 15th century AD’.”

It had him laughing softly.

“That sound like quite some work”, he commented, a strange glimmer in his eye.

“It is. That’s why I had to take a break, coming here. I told myself I’d take advantage of it and work, maybe visit Targoviste. Turns out, I’d rather risk death by the mighty elements than do that.”

I tried to smile, but the weight in my chest started to come back. It lifted while I was running high on adrenaline, trying to escape my doom during the storm, but now that I was out of danger, it sure as hell was back. The Count had a strange look on his face, almost as he was trying to read my mind through my eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“You must be tired, after such an eventful day”, he softly told me. “Let’s prepare a guest room, shall we?”

He was right, by all accounts. I took a deep breath, and handed him my empty cup as he held out his hand for it. His fingers brushed against mine, just a second, yet long enough that it didn’t feel unintentional. He did nothing of it, and placed the cups back on the tray, before escorting me into the halls. As we left, he took hold of a small candelabra and had it lit over the fire.

We made our way through the lenghthy corridors, and I started undertanding just how huge the place was. Confusing. Labyrinthic, almost. I wondered how I would ever find my way without breadcrumbs, or a trusty ball of yarn. I started taking mental notes of some reference points. A weird cat in a painting here, a knight fighting a giant snail in the corner of a tapestry there, that sort of thing.

“Are you also interested in art, Lady Cetero ?”, the Count asked, semingly noticing my interest.

“A little. I’m afraid I connect better with pieces of armor and war apparatus in general, though. A bit of an influence from my thesis, I think”, I admitted.

“Ah, in this case, I have something I am fairly certain you will enjoy”, he announced, before taking a right into another corridor.

We passed a few doors, and stopped in front of a slightly larger one. He slipped a large iron ring out of his jacket’s pocket, holding dozens of different keys, some oranate, some rougher. Without much hesitation, which was impressive considering the sheer ammount of choice he had, he unlocked the door, and pushed it open, gallantly leaving me to enter.

The room was dark, yest I discerned a faint glimmer across the walls. As the Count stepped in, and lit torches on the walls, I almost couldn’t contain a squeal of excitement. On the wall opposite the door, a suit of armor was displayed on a mannequin. Intricately worked in gilted vegetal arabesque, the darkened iron still suffered indents and scrapes, and the golden sheen had flaked in some places. I ventured that whoever had worn this had very little understanding of the crime it was to ever put such incredible crafstmanship at risk on the battlefield. It was very reminiscent of the kind of battle gear I had studied in my first year, but I never saw a complete one, least of all in such an incredible state of conservation. The suit was surrounded by weapons of the same make, still bright and shiny, the incrustations of stones and pearls seeming almost alive in the flickering light of the flames. The other walls were all covered in an almost artistic display of a large variety of other weapons, which it seemed spanned across centuries and all the surrounding regions of the Balkans.

“This is...Absolutely incredible”, I managed to breathe out. “How did you come to have such a collection ? Even the museum in Bucharest doesn’t compete !”

“I am very interested in history, you see. Some of the pieces here were there before I was born”, he told me, stepping closer to the central figure of the room. “This armor has been in my family for generations.”

He looked somewhat nostalgic, eyes drifting along the glistening metal. He stood tall, and I couldn’t help but picture him in it, his silver hair back to the dark waves of his youth, sword in hand, covered in blood and dust, leading his men into battle against roaring, bloodthirsty waves of ennemies.

“I would love to take a better look at them tomorrow, if you don’t mind”, I asked, trying not to look so eager as I felt.

“It would be my pleasure, however, I will have to take most of the day to attend some... Urgent matters.”

I nodded along, and we left the room, me with a last longing look as the Count extinguished the torches, and locked the door. He then led me along a stone staircase, set in what I assumed to ba a small tower, as I glanced outside through the narrow windows. On the second story, the floors was made of dark wood, which looked a bit dull. I figured if he lived alone, he didn’t have much time to varnish the whole castle. As we walked, the boards creaked in a sinister way, that reverberated through the halls. I couldn’t help but shudder, and though I head a soft laughter from the Count, walking ahead of me.

He stopped to open a door, and entered before I did. It was a fairly large room, with a high ceiling, supported by large wodden beams. An iron chandelier hanged at Mid-height, which was still half a dozen feet above my head. A large fireplace was carved into the wall, which my host had somehow lit as I studied the rest of the room. Behind wooden pannels, a large canopy bed was set near one of the three windows that pierced the wall, opening to a view of the wind-swept valley.

The Count carefully removed the large bedspread, which had probably been collecting dust for a while, revealing divinely comfortable-looking covers and fluffy pillows. To be fair, I was so exhausted I would have slept on the floor with no second thought, had that been necessary.

“Make yourself at home. You will probably find something to change in the wardrobe, if you want”, he told me. “Have a restful night, Lady Cetero.”

Bowing his head slightly, he exited the room, leaving me alone if it weren’t for the presence still lingering inside. I figured there was a slight possibility that I really were deep into hypothermia, and hallucinating, or, more likely yet, that he was a ghost. I slipped into a nightgown, still feeling a bit like a gothic novel heroine. I wondered a second how I could ever find sleep with all the wonder, excitement and slight feeling of dread that filled my mind. However, as soon as I let the heavy blankets over me, sinking into the matress, everything went quiet, the faint sound of the rain and rumbling thunder slowly lulling me to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

My eyes fluttered open, and it took me a second to make sense of my surroundings. Sitting up with some difficulty, the soft mattress seemingly trying to keep me in, I set the covers aside, and threw my legs over the edge of the bed. The room was bathed in a strange light, almost green, and if the rain had stopped, the sky was still low with bulging clouds, threatening to burst open at any moment. The fire in the hearth had died out, only leaving a few red coals to shimmer softly.

I changed back into my new outfit. My usual clothes might have dried out overnight, but I had to admit I really loved the skirt. It had  _ pockets _ , for hell’s sake. I had no idea what time it was, the dark skies making it impossible to assess the position of the sun. I figured if I were going to do anything, I might as well go check on the damage in my bag, which I decided to forget about last night. I left the room, trying to find my way back to the main hall. After a few hesitations and turnbacks, I finally found the main stairs, and reached my bag, still sitting near the door. As I feared, most of everything was soaked, even the food I’d taken with me. Had to throw that out, at some point. I found my phone, that I had miraculously put in a waterproof case. Still working, though on concerningly low battery, and had no signal. I sighed, and set it to extreme batter saver mode, hoping it would last until I could get back to civilisation.

I grabbed my remaining clothes to have them dry with the rest, and went to the dining room. There, the fire was still going strong, with a couple of fresh logs. At the end of the large banquet table, I was surprised to see a steaming pot of tea, and a plate of something close to scones, I believe. It was accompanied by a sheet of thick, high quality paper, folded in half to stand on its own, marked with my name in a neat, graceful handwriting.

“Dear Eris,

I expect you had a pleasant sleep. I have left for the most of the day, and will certainly not return before dark. Please enjoy some breakfast, as you must surely be famished. Feel free to explore should you wish it, as I have left the keys for you along with this letter.

I hope you will forgive me for my absence, and trust you will find the means for distraction.

Your devoted host,

Count Vlad Balaur.”

As I read the letter in a half hushed voice, warmth spread across my chest as I finished on his name. A glance at the table confirmed the presence of said keys. If I had to fumble through all of them every time I wanted to open a door, exploring just might take the whole day after all. I slipped them, along with the letter, in my pocket, and poured me a cup of tea. It was a different blend, black, yet flowery and soft. Perfectly well infused. The scones seemed to be fresh out of the oven, which made me wonder if he baked them himself, or had staff. I didn’t see anyone last night, but then again, it was late. If he was as rich as his house suggested, he just might. I figured I would look out for them. If anything, I had to compliment the chef. I don’t know if it was because I hadn’t eaten since yesterday at lunch, but eating these scones felt somewhat close to a religious experience.

After I became physically unable to eat any more, I decided to follow the Count’s idea, and explore. The castle was old, that much I could tell. I wasn’t an expert on architecture, but I was more or less convinced that the most ancient phase of construction had to be around the 13th, 14th century. The village probably built itself around it, so that would make some sense. Obviously, it had been updated, rebuilt, but the main structure was still visible. A lot of the rooms seemed almost… Stuck in time. A bit messy, crowded, as if the people who last left could come back any moment. Even so, the thick layer of dust dulling the colors made it clear that wasn’t going to happen.

I couldn’t help but feel some nostalgia. 15-year-old me would have been thrilled exploring a place like this. Not that I wasn’t, but at that time, I was so into urban exploration that I almost got dragged to the station a couple of times for tresspassing. My parents never knew, and just thinking of their reaction if they ever had had to go bail me out of jail for being a bastard goblin made me go into hysterics. Couldn’t help but picture my father, stilted up into some sad brown corduroy suit, mouth pinched in a lip-less line, having to pick up a ratty kid who just could not, would not, keep her grubby hands out of dangerous, rat infested abandonned houses. Or shut down psych wards, that one time. Pretty anti-climatic, that was. 

I stifled a laughter, and shut the door behind me. Most of the rooms were boudoirs, spare bedrooms and such. There was one large room, covered in hunting trophies and animal skeletons. This one interested me the most. Inside, I noticed it was close to a cabinet of curiosities. Glass and wood shelves hosted a variety of skeletons, egg and sea shells, fossils, even some weirdly misshapen baby animals, floating in yellowed jars. The taxidermied animals seemed almost real, and at any moment, I expected them to start moving around. One shelf, built along the whole length of a wall, was dedicated to various skulls, ranging from standard game, elks, boars and whatnot, to more exotic things. One in particular caught my eye. At first glance, I thought it might be human, but I was very quick to change my mind.

The skull seemed fine, strong jaw still attached to the cranium, even a bit of mummifies tissue still attached in some spaces. However, the teeth… The teeth made no sense. Too many, too sharp, like they had been filed into curved, pointy shapes you only see in great apes, or carnivorous animals. Reviewing every strange cultural rite that could explain such a bizarre thing, I started to feel more and more uneasy. I almost felt like it was staring at me from the shadows, behind the hollow eye sockets. Not necessarily wanting to linger any more, I slipped out of the room, and locked the door after a few tries. Just to be sure, you know.

I had visited most of the rooms, but still one was pinching my curiosity. If I understood right, I could see its windows from those of the corridor leading to the dining room. Tall windows, almost church-like. I passed its door a few times, but was never able to find the key that unlocked it. The mind works like it works, and by the thrid time, I was almost ready to find a way to pick the lock, or break it down. Frustrated as ever, I gave a kick to the frame, that made me repress a cry of pain.

“Well now, what has that poor door done to deserve this ?”

I nearly jumped at the sound of the Count’s voice. He was standing behind me, a manner which seemed to have become a habit on his part.

“It was resisting my best attempts to pierce it’s secrets, which is a grave offense in my book”, I replied.

“Ah, I am afraid it was entirely my fault”, he admitted, and produced a key from his pocket, twisting it between his long, slender fingers.

A mischievous smile playing on his lips, he unlocked the double doors, and pushed them open, dramatically turning back to face me, his coat flaring around him, arms open.

“Welcome to my library.”

The room was filled with the last rays of the sun, setting on the mountain ridge, under the clouds. It caught the dust the Count must have raised as he entered in golden specs, floating up all around him. Everywhere, bookshelves stretched out up to the high ceilings, accessible by ladders and small bridgeways. The floor was covered in richly woven carpets, and at every comfortable corner sat armchairs and reading tables, agremented with chandeliers. There had to be a lifetime’s worth of reading within these four walls, and for a moment, I was unable to even walk in.

As I finally regained control of my limbs, I stubled inside, jogging to the nearest shelf. Leather-bound books, stacks of rolled parchment, gilted, worn, intricate, small, large, I didn’t even know where to look first. There were so many different languages, I couldn’t even recognize half. I let my fingers trail along the backs of the volumes, deciding on which to pick first.

“Do you like it ?”, the Count softly asked, as if not to disturb my frantic search.

I turned towards him, unable to stop smiling. He looked almost surprised, almost moved. The sun caught his eyes, revealing their deep blue color. I noticed his hair was now dark as night, cascading on his shoulders. Not a single gray hair in sight. He looked almost exactly like his portrait in the dining room, now that I thought about it. He must have noticed my internal trouble.

“Is there something wrong ?”, he asked, stepping closer to me.

“Nothing”, I replied, shaking my head. “You seem to be… Well, for lack of better terms, younger than yesterday.”

“Ah, a bruise to my ego !”, he exclaimed as he carried a hand to his heart. “I know I have left my younger days behind, but I have yet to be an old man.”

It had been a dark, stormy night, and I figured that by candlelight, my mind could have played tricks on me. Maybe I had been expecting a lonely old man so much, that he appeared that way, in my slightly frostbitten mind. I decidedly turned my attention to the shelves, and picked a volume. A bit worn, but the dark green of the leather, and the tiny golden patterns still vivid on the spine. As I read the title, it had me laughing to myself.  Ὀδύσσεια, Homer’s Odyssey, in the “original” s peech.

“Do you read ancient greek ?”, the Count asked, now looking over my shoulder.

“I have had the misfortune of learning it. Since then, I fell out of practice, I think.”

I turned over the pages, the familiar words coming back to mind without having to really read them. It was with this story, and the Illiad, that my parents taught me. I knew them almost by heart at that point. His tall silhouette, behind me, felt almost protective. I was nearly tempted to let myself lean back against his chest. I could feel soft strands of hair brushing past my shoulder, making a shiver run down my spine.

“Are you cold ?”, he asked. “I am afraid these walls tend to not hold the heat very well. I could have a fire lit here, if you want.”

His tone was almost tender, concerned. I had no time to answer, before I heard the rustling of fabric, and felt the weight of his coat placed over my shoulders. His hands lightly slid down my arms, flattening the soft, tightly woven wool over me. The sudden warmth did nothing for my shivering, and I nervously turned another page. My finger slipped on the edge, which cut right through the soft skin.

I cursed under my breath, watching red bead at the cut, and run toward my palm. The hands of the Count, still over my shoulders, suddenly gripped them tight, almost enough to hurt me. I could swear I heard a growl from deep inside his chest. He took my hand in his, examining the wound. A slow stream of red came trickling down his own fingers. He was leaning closer to me, so much that I could feel his breathing on the nape of my neck, heavy, trembling.

“You should be more careful”, he told me, his voice barely more than a whisper, deep, and dark.

I turned back, freeing myself of his grip, and tried to step away. My back hit the shelves, my injured hand held up to my chest, the other still holding the book so tight my knuckles went white. He once again took my hand, this time holding a cloth to the cut, red slowly seeping into the white cotton. He kept his eyes riveted to the makeshift band-aid. They didn’t seem so blue anymore. He took a deep breath, which sounded almost like a snarl as he let it out. He whispered something in romanian I couldn’t make out, let go, and suddenly, he was gone. Leaving me breathless, confused, holding the now mostly red cotton square to my hand. The edges of the shelf dug into my back. I inhaled sharply, as if I’d been holding my breath the entire time, which could easily have been the case.

I closed the book, and slipped it back onto the shelf. The library was silent, if it weren’t for the faint sound of a crackling fire, in the hearth.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to any horse-person reading this.

The following morning, I found myself numb and sore, as I apparently had slept on a sofa, near the fireplace of the library. The Odyssey had slipped from my hand, and lay on the floor beside me. I stretched my limbs out, and took a look at my finger. Surprisingly enough, it was clean, and the cut was already closed by a fine dark line. The handkerchief was gone. My mind still fuzzy with sleep, I thought nothing of it. And yet...

I figured, decidedly so, that it might be time for me to take my leave. The room was filled with light, and I thought for a second that the weather might have improved. Through the thick glass diamonds that made up the windows, even though deformed, I could see the soft fluttering of snowflakes falling from grey skies. That was my luck, I frowned. If it kept on going like that, I would never leave this place.

With a scoff of annoyment, I made my way out of the library, and to the main entrance. The door was unlocked, and, using all my weight to push on the heavy wooden pannel, I slipped outside. The whole yard was already covered in a thick sheet of snow, crunching under my boots. I couldn’t help but smile, even considering the disturbing strangeness of my whole situation. Everything was silent, the snow absorbing all noise, except for the muffled sounds of my steps.

Outside the gates, the village seemed, strangely enough, more alive than it did before. With a bit of imagination, you could just believe it was a normal winter day, too cold for people to get out. Every breath I drew let a thick cloud of steam past my lips. On the ground, when I thought I would only find undisturbed snow, I noticed steps, rather fresh, but very unlike those of a human. Curious, I followed, turned at a street corner, and couldn’t contain a gasp as I almost ran headfirst into a horse. The momentary fright passing, I still stepped back, hoping not to be considered a threat. The animal followed, ears pointed at me, nostrils flaring as if he tried to find some treat on me.

As I took one final step, my back hit something. Or rather, someone. A gloved hand appeared near me, holding an apple, which the horse helped himself to. I turned my head to see the pleased expression of the Count, apparently very content with the look of surprise I must have had.

“I feed them, when they pass through the village”, he told me, pretending to feel guilty as if it were a great crime. “They used to be completely feral, and now not much more threat than puppies.”

“I’m not very fond of horses”, I told him with a nervous laughter.

“How can that be ? They are magnificent beasts. Man’s best friend, if you ask me.”

He seemed almost offended, scratching the animal’s head, who seemed to trust him completely, indeed like a dog to his master.

“I have my reasons”, I replied, not wanting to go into details.

“Have you never learned how to ride ? It may rid you of irrational fears…”

“If you must know”, I started after an exasperated sigh, “I do know how to ride. I have also been sent to a hospital for three months because of horses, which is probably why I haven’t been friendly with them since then.”

The Count didn’t reply, and dug into his coat’s pocket. He handed me another apple, eagerly followed by the horse. I protested, but he left it in my hand, telling me to keep it straight open. Knowing there was no way I could escape that, I obeyed, feeling more tense than I had been in a long time. It’s just a horse. Not even that big. All fluffy with his winter coat.

“Count Balaur, I’m- I don’t-”, I started, strating to feel more and more anxious as the animal stepped towards me.

“Do not be afraid. You are perfectly safe”, he whispered into my ear.

Somehow, I  _ doubted _ that. I remained still, holding out my hand awkwardly, trying to have it as flat as I could. The animal sniffed around the apple, and finished it in two bites, munching through it in a matter of seconds. The coarse beard hairs tickled my palm as he seemedto check if anything was left. Satisfied with his offering, he turned back to his horse business. I let out a sigh of relief.

“That wasn’t so terrible, now, was it ?”

I sighed and turned to face him.

“It was.”

I tried to sound harsh, but it only seemed to make him laugh.

“Well then, I promise not to do it again”, he told me, a hand over his chest. “Also, please, call me Vlad. You have already made me feel old enough.”

“Very well, Vlad”, I replied. “Do not make me fraternise with these spawns of the Devil again, if you will.”

He swore, again, and I turned back towards the main street, leaving the horses to their business, which was now the few more apples Vlad left for them. He caught back with me, offering his arm for me to hold. I decided to play along. We slowly walked into the snowed in streets, in silence. The ambiance felt almost surreal. Trying not to focus on his hand, his thumb occasionnally brushing on mine, I kept studying every detail that hadn’t been smoothed over by the heavy blanket of snow.

I started to genuinely enjoy it, yet had to stop dead in my tracks. On the corner of a house, a few feet over, blood had been splattered along the wall, dragged out on the stone. It was dark, almost black, but there was no mistaking it. I let go of Vlad’s arm, and hastily made my way up there. The path was narrow, stuck between two houses. Obviously, large enough to let a horse pass through, as that had been the case for the one lying dead at the end of it. I approached it, my morbid curiosity trumping the sinking feeling of dread in my stomach.

“Eris, come back. You don’t know what killed it.”

Killed. Right. As I got closer, I discerned the deep gashes opening up the carcass, leaving the organs to spill on the frozen ground. Good thing the cold kept the smell to a minimum, even through it still had me covering my nose with a part of my cloak. It looked… Chewed off, toyed with, but not actually eaten. I remained at a few respectable paces. The snow hadn’t fallen in the pass, and I noticed that even with all the gore spilling out and the multiple wounds, there was barely any blood anywhere. I examined the carcass, eyes drifting from cut to scrape. The animal’s head was thrown back in an impossible angle, the spine broken. On the neck, right below the jaw, was a very discernable bite mark. And it sure as hell was not a wolf’s.

“My, this looks dreadful. Why don’t we take our leave, dear ? I don’t want neither you nor me to be this pack of wolves’ next meal.”

Vlad wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and practically dragged me off the alley. His tone was indecipherable. He might just be actually moved by the horse’s gruesome death. He did seem to like the beasts, as strange as it seemed to me. I didn’t press further, still having a last look before we left. He was very silent as we walked back to the castle, and I had some trouble keeping up with his long paces.

He opened the main door with concerning ease, and almost slammed it behind us, the creaking of the wood on the stone floor echoing through the hall. He took my cloak -- his cloak, actually -- and asked me if I would wait for him in the dining room. I nodded without really thinking about it, still preoccupied by the horrific sight embedded in my brain. I mechanically walked through the corridors, guts and bitemarks flashing before my eyes.

I let myself fall onto a sofa, locking my eyes on the dying fire. I really didn’t want to overthink this. Still, a nauseating feeling twisted my insides. I tried to ignore it. I folded my kneed against my chest, holding them tight against me. The flames danced in the darkness. I thought at that point, I had to be confused. I didn’t understand anything. It all seemed to get stranger and stranger by the minute, and I couldn’t really just stand there, ignoring it. I cut my finger. A horse died.

I didn’t hear when he came back into the room, and had no idea how long I had remained staring onto the fire. Music started playing, with the soft, nostalgic grain of a grammophone. He set a cup of tea on the small pedestal table next to me, warning me to mind the heat. It steamed. His own did not.

“What’s in your cup ?”, I asked.

“Tea”, he replied.

I looked up at him. He was smiling, offering his hand.

“Eris, my dear, may I have the pleasure of a dance with you ?”

“I- I don’t know how to dance”, I tried to evade.

“You will find me to be an excellent teacher”, he told me, his voice sweet and inviting. “Would you do me this favor ? I dearly love to dance, and so rarely have the occasion.”

Undertanding that my choice wouldn’t have any sway over the matter, I unfolded my legs, and took his hand. He guided me to the windows, placing his hand a bit above my waist. Some old dancing etiquette resurfacing in my mind, I placed mine on his shoulder, to which he feigned to be impressed by. I couldn’t help but giggle at his expression, to which he responded by pulling me closer. Following his steps was far easier than I thought it would be, and after a short moment, I did it without thinking about it. His eyes locked with mine. So blue. His hair was framing his face in long, wavy strands, catching the silver and golden lights of snow and fire. It almost seemed like he could read right through me, my thoughts, my fears, my desires.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and no matter how hard I tried to stifle it, the slight smirk on the corner of his lips proved my efforts entirely vain. He slowly had me spin away, and back, wrapping his arm around my waist at my return. With a mischievous smile, he dipped me low. I felt at his mercy, leaning back, with only his arms to hold me. He was so close. Too close.

I turned my head to avoid his gaze, only to feel his breath on my neck. I wanted to say something. Stop him. Did I ? His lips brushed against my skin. Cold. Soft. Sharp. I breathed out his name. It came out choked. He pulled me up, slowly. I could feel him smiling against my skin. He tilted his head up to face me, just after planting a light kiss, right above my collarbone.

“Are you afraid of me ?”, he asked.

His gaze was intense, face inches from mine, holding me close against his chest.

“What’s in your cup ?”, I repeated, in a whisper so low I wasn’t even sure he’d hear it.

He only laughed, quietly, his hands holding me tight. I pressed mine against his chest, freeing me of his grip. He let me go, perfectly conscious that he could have kept me there as long as he wanted. I circled around him to reach his cup, laying on the dinner table.

My hand shaking, hovered about it. Almost full. Dark, viscous liquid, barely see-through. The Count had not moved, simply watching over me, his tall silhouette completely darkened by the light pouring out the windows, behind him. I had to be sure. I had to know. Maybe this was all some kind of misunderstanding. Maybe he just pulled some sick, very unfunny prank on me.

I took hold of the handle, and raised the cup to my face. I didn’t dare breathe in. I dreaded the smell. The liquid moved around slowly, and I noticed a fine film had formed at the surface, breaking off as soon as I moved it. I breathed in. Bitter. Iron. Sweet, in a sickening way. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

Before I could find anything to do, I felt the Count’s hands slip around my waist, one pulling my shirt to the side, revealing my neck and shoulder. I was paralysed, my heart pounding in my chest so hard it became painful.

“I am a fair hunter”, he whispered against my skin. “I will give you a headstart.”

He dragged his teeth up along my neck, my veins pulsing against the sharp edges. He placed a kiss right under my ear, almost tender, taking his time.

“Run, little rabbit.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place. If you want to get someplace else, you must run at least twice as fast as that !"

_ “Run, little rabbit.” _

My heart sank into my stomach. Time seemed engulfed in syrup, for a second. The cup dropped from my fingers. It took forever to shatter into the ground. The sticky feeling of the splatter on my boots snapped me back to reality. I slipped away from his grasp. His hands trailed on my body as long as he could before I made my way out. I could hear his soft laughter as I disappeared into the corridors. There was no way. No way this was happening. The boots made an impossible amount of noise on the stone floor. Even if he couldn’t hear me, I bet he could smell the blood soaking up the hem of my skirt.

I wouldn’t survive to see the next day. I was going to die, here. Turns out I might have had a better chance with an axe murderer, I bitterly thought to myself.

Focus. I paced my breathing, trying to make sense of the situation. Run ? Couldn’t outrun him. Hide ? He would find me, and fast. My throat started burning, and an uncomfortable metallic taste settled in my mouth. I slowed down, walking on the tip of the boots not to have the wooden heel clank at every step. There goes flight, now to see about fight. He was very obviously far stronger than me. Unarmed, I didn’t have a chance.

The armoury. I took a left, and found the expected double doors. Locked, of course. Fuck. Alright, think. He may have some sort of weak point. Had to believe legends, for lack of better reference. Apparently, sunlight did little to nothing. There was staking, but had yet to find a stake. Silver was a thing. But why would he have anything in his home that might harm him ?

He wouldn’t. But others would. The coin from the village. Blessing my goblin nature that had me keep it all along, I fumbled into the skirt’s pocket to find it still there. Alright, that was one thing. I might even find more into the village. That was, if I ever made it there. A voice broke the silence.

“Ready or not, here I come !”

It echoed through the halls, yet felt like it came from inside my head. Hide. Hide now. Next door was slightly ajar. Excruciatingly slowly, I pushed it open, praying every god out there not to have it creak. I slithered inside, in the semi-darkness. The windows were obscured by thick drapes, only having thin rays of silver light seep through. I glanced around, frantically searching for anything that could be made into a stabbing device.

Come on,  _ anything _ . My eyes finally laid on a trophy, mounted on the wall, over the hearth. Roe deer antlers, still attached to the top part of the skull. Antlers.  _ Pointy Wood _ . I grabbed the nearest pedestal table, and brought it to the fireplace. Hiking my skirt up, I climbed over it to reach the trophy, ripping the antlers off. Not caring about the noise it would make, I snapped the skull in half, pocketed one, and gripped the other.

Everything was eerily silent. I found myself shaking. Breathe. Focus. I moved to the room’s door, laying my ear against the panel, closing my eyes to hear better. Nothing. Nothing, until the door started to open. Miraculously holding in a gasp, I moved back, and flattened myself against the wall. The door spun out on its hinges, and the tall silhouette of the Count stepped in, not making a single sound as he moved to the fireplace. He took hold of the wooden plaque that had been holding the trophy moments sooner.

“You’ve been here… What did you find, I wonder, little rabbit…”

I held my breath. He was turning his back on me. Maybe… Slowly, mindful of every step, I moved to the entrance, eyes locked on his tall figure. I reached the doorframe.

“I can see you, darling.”

He tilted his head back, a large grin revealing a line of long, jagged fangs and teeth, too many, too large, almost like his jaw was unhinged. His eyes were glowing from the inside, and seemed entirely dark, not a trace of white in the sclera. Move. Move ! I took back control of my body as he started to walk towards me, a guttural laughter, like a hyena’s, escaping from deep into his chest. Forcing myself off the horrifying sight, I blinked off the tears that started welling up in my eyes, and ran as fast as I possibly could through the corridors. Get out. Get the fuck out.

My hand started to sting. The protrusions of the antlers started digging into my skin. I didn’t care. Run. The hall. Rushing to the door, I tried to open it. Locked. My stomach turned so violently I almost gagged. Maybe there was another issue, somewhere. I turned to the next building. In a second, he was there. Before I could think of using my weapon, he ripped the makeshift stake out of my hand. Beads of blood gushed from my palms, which had him snarl like a famished beast. I thought to use the distraction to run. He grasped at my throat, raising me in the air. A scream escaped my mouth like a choked gurgling sound. I started to see lights dancing in front of my eyes. Not like this. Not like… this…

The coin. Using the last of my consciousness to grab the small piece of metal in my pocket, shaking, I slapped it on the back of his hand. Shrieking, he let me fall back on the floor, not releasing his grip. I gasped for air, as he cursed at me in his native tongue, his voice sounding like dozens, filling the room. In a single push, my feet left the stone floor, and I flew back, right through the window.

I felt the glass shatter against my back, slice through my skin. All seemed silent, except for the shimmering of the shards, all around me. The sky, so bright. I hit the ground, the air winding out of my chest as I crashed through the snow. A second then, the Count was hunched over me, mouth agape, feral, hissing.

“Not bad, for a rabbit”, he growled.

His mouth twisted in a deranged manner of rictus, deformed, terrifying. He grabbed my injured hand, watching the blood seeping down onto my wrist. Shaking with anticipation, he pressed a kiss to my palm. I felt only teeth, and his tongue. As soon as it touched my skin, I couldn’t repress a soft cry. A jolt of electricity ran through my body.

Everything was red.

My feet, ankle deep in translucent water, laid above golden sand. The sky, purple above, fading to yellow to the horizon, where a large, ominous sun was setting over the water. There was nothing else.

“Where am I ?”, I asked, to myself.

“Where you want to be”, the Count replied.

He was standing next to me, as barefoot as I was into the water. He looked calm, peaceful, watching the sun. Nothing hurt anymore. A wonderful feeling of warmth, happiness, washed over me, as soft wrinkles of water licked at my feet.

“What is happening ?”

“You are a very clever prey, but I am a better hunter”, he told me.

He gave me a soft smile, almost… Sad. Disappointed, maybe.

“Am I dead ?”

“Not yet.”

I slipped my hand into my pocket. Not yet. I thrust my arm toward the sun. Next to me, the Count suddenly coughed up a splutter of blood. Considering the black liquid, softly dripping away on his hand, he then lifted his eye to see the second antler, secure in my hand.

Everything was white.

The sudden rush of pain was unbearable for a moment. The antler secure in my hands, it rested on my chest, the pointed end buried in the Count’s heart. I pushed him off with all of my remaining forces, and he fell over to the side.

“Clever… Rabbit…”, he gasped.

A hint of laughter started, for a second. Then, nothing. Unable to move, I focused on breathing. Cold air. Every cut stung. Every breath had me crying out in pain. A muffled noise had me twist my head back. Soon, I felt the coarse hairs of a horse’s muzzle on my forehead.

“You again”, I croaked. “Don’t have any apples. Leave.”

The stubborn thing stayed, poking at the side of my head with his. I groaned, and painstakingly managed to sit up. The old thing lowered his head, and I grabbed at his neck. He slowly raised up, and so I did too. To be fair, this wasn’t the weirdest thing happening today. In the red snow, he didn’t seem dead. The makeshift stake deep into his chest, his eyes hadn’t turned glassy, cloudy. He looked like he slept, eyes open.

Not much inclined to test that theory, I took a deep breath, and hoisted myself onto the beast, groaning with pain. I grabbed a handful of his mane, careful not to hurt him. Fighting to stay upright, I didn’t give a second look to the castle as I left, nor at the tall silhouette lying dead on the frozen ground.

Had I been more keen to read on legends, to give credit to myth, I might have learned something very important. Something, which, in retrospect, I should have been weary of.

Only a stake made of white oak may kill a vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the end of part one ! I might take a few days' break before I continue with the rest, but be sure that this story isn't finished. I promised romance, I promised slow burn, and we only got to the burn part yet.  
> Get ready for some mortal enemies to lovers, my guys.
> 
> Stay tuned...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this short break, here's the first instalment of the second act, chapter six ! Hope you all enjoy !

“Thank you for your compelling conclusion to this seminar, professor Rieder. I would like, once again, to thank all whose interventions have made these few days a most instructive and enlightening event. Now, for the part all of us have been waiting for since this morning, I will see you at the buffet next room over.”

Scattered laughter and clapping closed my statement. A growing buzz filled the room, and I contained a sigh of relief. Turning off my headset, I laid it on the table next to me, giving a few awkward smiles to the eminent researchers still at my side. I focused my attention on the familiar face sitting front row, shoving her scattered notes in her bag. One smile of hers would have stopped a cyclone, and thus I melted inside when she hurried to meet me, pulling me in a bear hug. She was so tiny she couldn’t raise me past tiptoes. I closed my eyes, hugging her back. Her hair smelled like coconut oil, and lavender. She pushed back, still holding my shoulders.

“That was great, see, told you you’d kill it !”, she exclaimed, eyes glimmering with joy.

“Leaaaaah, stop it, you’ll make me believe it”, I replied, letting my head fall back. “I still have to hear from Laurent.”

“Heh, speak of the Devil !”, she taunted, her eyes set somewhere over my shoulder.

Laurent, my thesis coordinator for the past two years, was not a cheerful type person. He was six feet tall, salt more than pepper hair, neatly trimmed, the mustache always curled at the tip, and small, golden rimmed glasses. On anyone else, he might have looked like a nice grandpa. However, his strict demeanor and constantly furrowed eyebrows denoted an uncompromising attitude, which had proven a challenge in my research and field work. I was all the more taken aback by the huge grin plastered on his face as he came over to firmly shake my hands in his.

“Excellent work, Eris. I couldn’t be more satisfied !”, he bellowed. “You will have to come take a drink with us now, I won’t have you escape this time !”

If you weren’t used to his manners, he might seem a bit blunt, even abrasive, but his comment made me smile. I nodded, and he left me after a friendly pat on the shoulder, still having me stumble. Leah was almost vibrating with excitation, as per usual. Where she found her energy, I’d never know. She took hold of my arm, and practically dragged me to the reception room. The committee spared no expense, as the whole seminar had been financed by an anonymous donator, who had been more than generous with his funding. As we got in, we were greeted by a groom, holding a plate of champagne glasses. A bit over the top, if you asked me. Still, I was on par with the standing of the venue, the National Museum of Natural History. It was huge, old, and honestly, so stuffy in the scientific department I had to think twice before I accepted to coordinate the seminar.

I had taken a million years finding an outfit that wouldn’t clash with the tone, and wouldn’t have me looking like a talking toad in a bowtie. Leah looked great as always, her long, strawberry blonde locks bouncing freely on her shoulders, wearing a perfectly tailored bustier pantsuit. she could have worn a sack of potatoes and looked better than me, still awkwardly trying to walk in a straight line with the pair of stilettos she bought for me. Still, I’d rather suffer the little mermaid’s martyr than disappoint her.

She grabbed two glasses for us, and had a few steps back, guiding me further into the center of the room. She handed me my glass, and held up hers.

“To the first of many symposiums saved from death by your exceptional organizational skills”, she stated.

“To the only reason I didn’t panic and make a fool of myself for three consecutive days, Leah Fox”, I threw back at her.

We toasted, and took a sip. The room was packed. Still enough room to actually breathe, but I never were one for social situations of that type. Of any type, really. As soon as that glass was empty, I would beg Leah to get back to her place, which was, thankfully, close-by. I’d have to almost get across the whole city if I were to go back to mine, and in the state of exhaustion I was in, no way that was happening.

“Hey, don’t look- _Do not !_ \- but there’s a guy looking at you from over there”, Leah told me.

I kept my eyes on her obediently, as she seemed to study said man. She had a look of mischief in her eyes that announced trouble with a thousand golden horns. I indulged her.

“Well, will you at least tell me what this Mystery Admirer looks like ?”, I enquired.

“He’s your type, I gotta say. Tall, dark and handsome, you know ?”, she started, being less and less discreet about her staring. “Oh, and he _knows_ how to dress, I have to ask where he found his tie pin- Oh, fuck, he saw me, abort mission !”

She winced, knowing full well we couldn’t just run away like schoolgirls. Not if we wanted to keep some form of good reputation among the dozens of career-relevant academics chatting all around us. Seeing her head gradually lift up, I sighed, and prepared myself to get some human interaction. I put on my best fake smile, and turned around.

“Eris Cetero, I have been dying to meet you again.”

All sounds faded. Heart sinking into my stomach, I barely even heard the crystalline sound of the champagne glass as it broke between my fingers. I barely heard Leah’s cry of surprise, or felt the warmth of the blood gushing from my palm. I only saw the red around ocean blue eyes, and a split-second, sharp smile.

My knees gave out under me, his arm slipped around my waist, catching me before all lights faded, blown out like candles in the wind.

~-~-~

Muffled sounds of chatter were my first perception. Then, right after, a burning sensations from my nose to my lungs, that made me choke. 

“Eris ? Are you awake ?”, Leah’s worried voice came to my ears before the golden halo of her hair above me. I could only respond with a pained groan.

“I should hope so, this is very potent”, a silky, deep voice commented outside my limited field of vision.

“I know, but no offense, _who_ carries smelling salts on them in 2020 ?”

“I do, and they proved useful, did they not ?”

She sounded cheerful, as she always did. Every sentence he uttered had the effect of a sledgehammer to my chest. I tried to sit up, and leaning on my had me crying out in pain.

“You’re injured !”, she exclaimed, laying me back down, a hand over my chest. “Just rest a little, will you ?”

“Leah, you have to leav-”, I tried to warn her, too faintly for her to even notice I spoke.

She turned her attention back to him. “Tell me, Professor Balaur, you were about to tell me how you met our faint-hearted friend ?”

Professor ? That didn’t sound right, by all accounts. I couldn't get rid of a faint ringing in my ear. Spots of light danced before my eyes. I had to do something. My heart was almost beating out of my chest. The back of his eyes caught the light just a second. Sharp teeth flashed before my eyes, as they had been embedded in my brain for the past two months, every time I spent too long, staring in the shadows.

“Please, call me Vlad. You do well to remind me, it _is_ a good story.”

His voice was sickeningly sweet. Leah didn’t mind, seemingly genuinely interested in what he had to say, leaning into the palm of her hand, propped up on her elbow. Fighting through the numbness, I decidedly sat up.

“Leah, we have to leave”, I snapped, ignoring her protests. “Now.”

“You don’t seem well enough to go on your own”, the Count stated, his silky voice not helping with my nausea. “I could give you a ride, I have my car parked here.”

“Well, I live nearby, so we can manage”, she began. “But... Considering her state, I would love the help. You’d have my eternal gratitude, and I’ll invite you in for a cup of tea !”

 _Invite you in._ No. No way. Not her.

“I have to go home !”, I blurted out. “I… haven’t fed Zardoz this morning and he’ll- he'll wreak havoc if I don’t.”

Leah gave me a puzzled look. She knew I was lying. She could always tell. She didn’t understand why, but she wouldn’t ask. She trusted me. I promised myself I would tell her, at some point. If I had no other choice.

“Well then, you can’t take the bus in that state”, the Count commented. “For my peace of mind, would you let me take you home ?”

No, absolutely not. He kept his gaze locked on mine. I couldn’t let him anywhere near Leah. Never mind me, she had to be safe.

“Alright”, I yielded. “Go home, Leah, I’ll be fine. I just need a second to get my bearings, I'll be fine with...” I felt like I had to swallow bile. “With Vlad.”

She hesitated, and I gave her the best smile I could muster. She agreed to take her leave, after making me promise to call her as soon as I got home. Scribbling my address on the back of her visit card, she handed it to the Count, and planted a kiss on my forehead. With a last wave, just like that, she left. I couldn’t contain a sigh of relief. A gloved hand appeared in my field of vision.

“If you think I’m coming with you, you’re even more insane than I thought”, I snapped at him, not giving him the satisfaction of eye contact.

“Oh, Eris. Let’s not pretend like there is any other outcome to this situation.”

No matter how much I hated it, he was right. I gave him my arm, and saw his hand twitch as it brushed against the bandages. Leah had gone so overboard I could barely flex my fingers, but on the flip side, no blood seeped through. I wondered how he managed not to go feral when the cuts were still fresh. He took hold of my briefcase, and we left.

Trying to dissociate myself as much as I could from the situation, I barely could make sense of my surroundings as the Count guided me to the outside. I heard myself say goodbye to Laurent as we passed him, giving a bullshit explanation as to why I was leaving with him. The word “date” was thrown around, which I’d have to be angry about later. I focused on not snapping my ankles on the stairs. Curse high heels and feminine fashion standards.

We crossed one of the side doors at the entrance, and stepped outside. For a second, the night’s fresh air made me feel better. The large street, occupied only by a grassy railway, was lit by the orange glow of street lamps. In my fuzzy mind, It looked like a Van Gogh, a blur of light and colors, and the faint sound of the wind rustling into the trees. A welcome silence, after the noise of the inside.

We stopped near a car. Black, sleek, elegant design. A step up from the creepy old van I rather imagined, if I ever got abducted. He opened the passenger door for me.

“I’m not getting in”, I told him, a bit stubbornly.

“Listen, I have told your friend I would get you home safe, and I will. I behaved myself even though you… Well.” His gaze lowered to my injured hand, which I instinctively hid behind my back.

“Why, _why_ on Earth should I trust anything you have to say ?”

“Because, dear, I may be a monster, which you seem so adamant to believe, but I am not, and never have been, a man to go back on word given.”

Looking at the situation objectively, I didn’t have much of a choice. No tram anywhere in sight, no people to scream to, and anyway, the Kitty Genovese thing made it clear that witnesses don’t do anything for your survival. And in her case, she was murdered by a human, which I wouldn’t be so lucky about. If he really took me home, that would bring him further from Leah, which was a substantial advantage. Taking a deep breath, I nodded, and got in the passenger seat. After making sure I was settled, he closed the door, and went around to sit behind the wheel. He typed up the address on the screen, and turned on the GPS. The car’s windows were tinted, and the interior was lit by a soft band of red led lights. Fitting.

“Seatbelt”, he commanded.

“Since when do you even know how to drive ? I would have expected a hearse, drawn by undead horses”, I sneered.

“I am not the Grim Reaper, Eris. Also, everybody knows how to drive, these days, it’s an easy skill to pick up.”

“Huh, pick up, is that what you call it ?”

He laughed. As soon as I went back home, I had spent every waking hour I had to spare researching things like him. That proved to be a difficult task, given that 90% of the hits were either literature, were it good or bad, conspirationist websites with very disputable sources, or witnesses with incoherent, horny accounts of their meetings with seductive succubuses. I figured I had to not be the only one, but there was absolutely no way of finding anything credible, as truth often makes a worse audience than embellished fiction.

At this point, I only had random bouts of legends I classified by percentage of credibility. Silver burned his skin, but didn’t seem necessarily lethal. It did seem to leave a scar for a long time, I thought as I watched the thin, white circle on the back of his hand, relaxed on the wheel. Antlers didn’t seem to be efficient either, or at least, not in a permanent manner. I wasn’t sure about direct sunlight, but cloudy weather seemed to be just fine to him.

“What are you thinking about ? I can sense it’s a tad violent”, he teased, keeping his eyes on the road.

“How are you here ? How are you alive ?”, I jabbed at him.

“Are you disappointed ?”, he replied in a slightly mocking tone.

“Thoroughly.”

“Well !”, he laughed. “Strictly speaking, I was not alive to begin with. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

He tapped on the wheel as he drove. The rhythm reminded me of something, though I couldn't quite place it. He had his hair cut, and was clean shaven, I noticed. Overall, he looked pretty much like a normal man, late fourties, more handsome than the usual, maybe, objectively speaking. He looked sharp, intelligent. Dangerous.

“Are you going to kill me ?”, I asked, turning my attention to the road as well, trying not to have my voice shake as much as I physically was.

“Kill you ?” He seemed to think a few seconds. “No. Not yet, at least.”

“Then why are you here ? How did you find me ?”, I blurted out.

“I tasted you, I’ll always know where you are”, he softly replied. He glanced at me, lingering a little. “As for why, let’s say that I am… curious. No one even _tried_ to stake me since that funny little man Van Helsing.”

I huffed out a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Among all who could have taken interest in me, it had to be an immortal, bloodthirsty creature, who could smell me to the ends of the earth like a hellhound.

“Stalker”, I laconically commented.

“Stalk- What ? I’m not a- How dare you even-”

He sounded genuinely offended. My sudden fit of quiet laughter cut him off. His outraged expression softened, and he let out a sigh, taking back his composure. He took a right into my street, and parked in front of my buiding. After turning of the engine, he leaned back into his seat.

“Before you leave, I have something for you.”

He reached behind my seat, and handed me a wooden box, wrapped a red silk ribbon. I gave him an inquisitory look, to which he didn't respond. If he wanted to kill me, I ventured he would find a more dramatic way than a booby-trapped box. I mean, he wasn't an Acme character. I untied the ribbon, noticed a lock. The Count handed me a key, attached to a thin, golden chain.

“I’m more of a silver kind of girl”, I teased.

“Very funny, but also a lie”, he replied, sliding a finger along my ear, and the three golden rings piercing it.

A shot of electricity ran through me. He was about to lower his hand, yet I felt his touch, barely grazing along the small scars I knew were still swollen, still red, under the foundation I used to cover them up. Dozens of them, little cuts. Broken glass is something sharp. I heard him take an inspiration, as if to say something. I took the key, worked it into the lock. The lid opened on red velvet, in which was incased a colt. A gun. _A gun ?_

“That is a gun”, I flatly stated.

“Not just any kind of gun. This one is loaded with custom-made white oak bullets.”

I remained speechless a moment, taking it from its case. The metalwork was intricate, and the handle, distinctively polished antler. I wonder if…

“It is. I thought it would be… appropriate”, he told me, as if he had read my mind.

 _Appropriate_. I scoffed. None of it was appropriate.

“It’s simple of use, really, cock the hammer back, point, squeeze the trigger”, he explained.

“I know how a colt works. I’m more concerned of the reason why I now have one.”

“I would like for it to be a token of trust.” He shifted in his seat to face me. “I want to know that I am no threat to you. Should you not believe it, you now have this.”

I tightened my fingers around the grip. “Will it kill you ?”

“To the best of my knowledge, yes”, he nodded. “I have never died before, however, so this is brand new territory.”

He laughed at his own questionnable joke. I cocked the hammer back, and set the barrel against his chest. “Give me a good reason I shouldn’t do that right now.” He didn’t seem phased in the slightest, which had me doubt the actual usefulness of his gift. He leaned in, his face inches from mine.

“Curiosity”, he whispered, tilting his head to the side. “Everything you study in literature, I lived. Everything event you try to make sense of, I witnessed. Every battlefield you excavate, I have bled on it.” 

I lowered the gun, and looked away.

“As for myself, you have made me curious of this world again.”

“Why me ?”, I muttered, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. His cool breath had the fine hairs of my neck rise up.

“Well, what can I say, except that you have touched my heart ?”

“Dear God.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, and groaned. “I’ll shoot _myself_.”

“What do you say ?”, he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I could almost feel his lips brushing against my cheek.

“Won’t you invite me in ?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated A for Angst.

“ _Won’t you invite me in ?”_

I slowly turned my head to face him, the tip of my nose touching his for a second.

“Do you think this is how it works ?”, I whispered. He inched back, probably picking up the anger I tried to conceal in the softness of my tone. “Do you think you, who has haunted my every nightmare, every dark corner, every space behind my back, for months-” I took a shaky breath. “Do you think you can invade a place I feel most safe in, threaten my dearest friend, threaten me, and hope a gift will make up for it ?”

I clenched my jaw. His expression, as he has leaned back into his seat, was unreadable.

“I have spent _days_ in the hospital, terrified that you would find me and finish the job. And I couldn’t tell- I couldn’t tell anyone why I felt so _unsafe_ because frankly, who would believe me ?”

Tears welled up in my eyes, still he said nothing. Had he spent so much time apart from any humans he forgot how to understand emotion ?

“I am terrified, right now, because I know you could… snap my neck, or bleed me dry, and I couldn’t- I couldn’t do anything about it !”

I started to cry silently, unable to stop the flow of tears running down my cheeks. He seemed almost paralyzed. I took the chance, and got out of the car, slamming the door behind me. Fumbling for my keys, my fingers were so shaky I dropped them. As I picked them up, I heard the other car door open, and froze, slowly turning back to face him. He circled around the car, but kept a distance between us.

“I cannot _begin_ to imagine what you went through because of me.” He looked and sounded completely serious, which was a strange color on him. “There is nothing I can say that would be close to an acceptable apology, but I do want to make amends.”

He handed me the box, keys still on the lock. The chain glimmered under the streetlamp’s lights.

“I won’t invite you in”, I maintained.

“And I will not insist.”

I hesitated a little, and first pulled the key from the lock, slipped it into my pocket. As I took the box, my fingers brushed against his, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Are you cold ?”

_I could have a fire lit, if you want._

“I’m fine”, I replied, once again having no time to protest as he put his jacket on my shoulders. “I’m literally ten feet from my door, Vlad-”

“Hah, she called me Vlad !” A semi-triumphant look plastered on his face.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you, or like you, for all that matter”, I snapped at him.

“And I will make my peace with that.” He put a hand over his heart. “For now.”

“You are insufferable. I’m going to bed.”

He still had a somewhat… sheepish look to him, head slightly tilted to the side, like a grounded puppy. Still. I couldn’t move past the flashes of teeth, blood and feral growls layering over his face. I suddenly had to inhale a sharp gust of air, and turned back, the box held against my chest by my injured hand, the other looking for my keys. I turned back, and climbed the short flight of stairs to the entrance of my building.

“Sleep well, Lady Cetero.”

Can’t promise anything. I buzzed myself in, and hurried to the stairs without a second look behind me, turning all light on as I went by. As I climbed the steps to the fourth and last floor, I felt like my heart was about to jump out of my chest. Not only because those stairs were a nightmare, though. On the doorstep, the meowing on the other side of the door had me smiling. That little monster was going to be unbearable.

Giving the usual kick to the door panel to get open, it creaked on its hinges, yet the incessant yelling of the hairball at my feet covered most of the noise.

“Hey, shut it, dumbass, you’ll wake the whole building”, I told him, locking the door behind me.

Following his little strut to the kitchen, I gave him his much expected dose of kibble.

“You fat idiot, you need a diet. I love you so much. Babie.”

He purred hysterically as he ate, and I kept on my incoherent baby talk for a while, mindlessly running my hands through his shaggy fur. God, what a day. I sat on the floor, removing my heels, and resisted the urge to throw them out of the window. Gift from Leah, gift from Leah, I muttered under my breath as I put them away in the hall closet.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dialed Leah’s number, who picked up before the first ring. I reassured her, told her I was home, safe, and tired. As soon as she started taking her usual gossip-y tone, asking about Vlad, I bid her good night, and hung up on her crystalline laugh.

I dragged my feet to my bedroom, throwing the jacket on my desk chair. I grumbled as I tried to unzip my dress. God, who decided to make clothing you can’t take off by yourself ? Rich people, probably. Or people in a relationship. As I finally succeeded to pull the tab down, I heard knocking on my window. A panicked scream escaped my mouth as I noticed the dark silhouette standing on the emergency staircase, outside. Him, again. I sighed, and climbed over my bed to open the window a crack.

“What the hell do you want now ?”, I barked at him.

“You forgot your briefcase”, he told me, holding it up for me.

“Oh. Thanks.” I hesitated before opening the window wider. “This is not an invitation.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it”, he smiled as he passed me the worn leather bag. “Although, if you still need help with your dress-”

“Get out of my balcony.”

I could swear he winked before he disappeared. By that I mean, literally vanished. I leaned out of the window, and felt a soft stroke against my cheek, and a bat, flying off. Well. Something to add to the list. I closed the window, and sat back on my mattress. Sleeping was going to be a challenge, tonight.

~ - ~ - ~

The sound of my alarm dragged me from sleep. Buried in my thick duvet, head incased in my pillows, I groaned for a good minute before I found the energy to set my phone off. Outside, everything was still dark, which made getting up that much harder. Zardoz meowed in indignation when I had the nerve, the hubris to move him from my legs, where he’d spent the night.

My hand felt sore, and I figured I had to redo the bandages, if only to assess the damage. It wasn’t too bad, two cuts to my palm, and one across my thumb, the rest being small, superficial scrapes. I disinfected the whole, and carefully placed fresh bandages, making sure I’d be able to actually use my hand this time.

I dragged myself to the kitchen, and the sacrosanct bean juice machine. It did make disgusting coffee, but then again, I was very much used to it. As it rumbled, having the whole table vibrating, I served His Royal Majesty his morning dose. This time, I set it into a training ball, so that he’d have minimal exercise. God, I could barely picture the sorry state I’d found him in. A small, half dying kitten, at the corner of my building, now a year and a half ago. His harrowing mews of distress attracted me, and after a _significan_ _t_ amount of vet bills, he was mine. Leah had the idea for his name, as we were in a weird movie binge-watch party, and Sean Connery’s red underwear made some lasting impression of us. By that, I mean she almost choked to death laughing.

Bringing my cup back to my bedroom, I threw some clothes on, and slipped my feet into my boots. Thursdays were usually not that busy for me, but my absence during the seminar meant I had to catch up on some classes, both to my dismay and that of my students. I finished my coffee with a wince. The things we do for energy. At least, wasn’t coke. I checked the contents of my briefcase, wrapped a scarf around my neck, and was out, but not before a final kiss on Zardoz’s belly, who endured with minimal complaints.

Greeting Mrs. Mills, checking her mailbox way too early as she always did, she asked if I had any breakfast, and cursed at me when I answered by the negative, as she always did. And as I always did, I wished her a good day, before storming out. I climbed down the stairs, checking my watch for the next train, and froze as soon as I raised my head back up.

“What the hell are you still doing here ?”, I exclaimed, my voice coming out a bit more squeaky than I would have liked.

“Good morning to you too”, the Count cheerfully replied, handing me a paper bag.

“What’s that ?”

“Oh, don’t sound so suspicious, it’s breakfast”, he sighed.

Squinting at him, I took the bag, and peeked inside. Warm, buttery looking croissants.

“I didn’t know what to pick, I went for ‘timeless classic’. Is that alright ?”

He seemed to genuinely care. I sighed.

“What isn’t alright is you standing at my front door at six thirty in the god forsaken morning. The croissants are _fine_.”

“Well, perfect then !”, he exclaimed. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

He opened the passenger door once again.

“What do you mean, you’ll drive ? I’m going to class. I don’t have time for whatever shenanigans you have planned.”

“I know, I’m driving you there.”

Knowing I wouldn’t win this argument, being still half asleep and on an empty stomach, I threw my head back, sighed, letting out a “FINE” that seemed to satisfy him, as I slipped into the car. He sat behind the wheel, my university’s address already in the GPS. Worried me a little. How much exactly did he know ? Was it all in my blood ? Gods, that would be very telling of my academic situation. I leaned back onto my seat, deciding that if I had to put up with him, I didn’t need to make conversation.

“Are you angry, for some reason ?” He really did seem puzzled.

“Dear Lord, you actually have no idea, do you ?”, I sighed.

“I thought it would be gallant.”

“In the twenty-first century, waiting for a woman you barely know, whom you tried to murder a few months ago, is considered a bit creepy, my guy.”

He remained silent, excluding an outraged mouthing of “my guy”, which almost sent me in a fit of laughter.

“Maybe you will have to ‘update’ me on your modern manners, then”, he proposed after a short silence.

“Yeah, maybe.”

What in the goddamn fuck was happening. Three days ago, I had nightmares about the guy, and he was now my glorified chauffeur. Well, not that it really did much for the lingering feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

“So, did you just wait in front of the building, hoping I’d come out eventually ?”

He laughed. “Would you call me a stalker again if I did ?”

“Obviously.”

“Then no.”

I had to say, he was a little funny. Not that I would admit it under torture, but still. The sky started to take a pink color, lighting the few clouds in bright orange.

“You don’t burn in the sunlight. What’s up with that ?”, I asked.

“I don’t sparkle either, if you want to know.” He didn’t let me enough time to react to the terrible implications of that sentence. “Maybe it’s easier to believe you are only unsafe in the dark.”

I sat back, watching the first rays of sunlight come through the windshield, giving his eyes an almost silver color. I noticed a soft smile form on his lips. He wasn’t horrible to look at, when he wasn’t in a bloodthirsty frenzy. A sharp profile, that commended authority, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw. His hair was still long, in controlled, soft waves, mostly slicked back, except for a few strands, falling casually in front of his face.

“Lady Cetero, you will have me blushing soon”, he teased.

Ah. Fuck. “I don’t like you clean-shaven. It looks weird.”

He laughed, and I turned my eyes to the road, trying to ignore the rising heat to my face. Curse me for blushing so easily.

“I’ll let it grow back, then”, he told me, almost apologetic. Soft.

I shifted further into the leather seat, a smile forcing its way to my lips. “Hrm.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than the rest, but a big one is coming up next !

As soon as I dismissed the class, chatter started filling the small auditorium, along with chairs dragging to the wooden floors. The sun was almost set, and everyone, including me, was exhausted, and so the room emptied itself fast. Vlad, who sat at the back during the whole day, went down the stairs and joined me at my desk, a coy little smirk on the corner of his lips.

“Well, what did the expert think ?”, I asked as I started putting away my stuff.

“A few kinks to work out here and there, but overall, not too bad”, he commented, leaning back against the blackboard. “However…” He raised an eyebrow. “I see you snaked around a certain historical figure. An important one, if I do say so myself.”

I groaned. “It didn’t mention what didn’t need mentioning in this class.”

“You know, and not to be a narcissist, but there is a good chance half of your students took that class hoping to learn about the Infamous Impaler”, he commented.

He looked so smug. If I didn’t know what he was, he could just have been a nerd way too much into role-play. With great fashion tastes, and nice hair. Anyway.

“Actually, I did promise them last semester that we would do a class on that subject”, I told him, turning to face him, sitting back on my desk. “Then, I took a holiday, which somehow had me change my mind.”

He winced, and took the sorriest puppy-dog face I had ever seen in my entire existence. For crying out loud. “Don’t play victim with me, jerk”, I grumbled.

“Why, is it working ?”, he teased.

Before I could reply anything witty, I was interrupted by a voice timidly calling out my name. A pale, tired-looking student was waiting awkwardly at the foot of the podium, expectantly looking up at me. I had no idea who he was, which was a bit frustrating, as I always paid attention to that sort of thing.

“Do you have any questions about the lecture ?”, I asked him, inviting him to step closer. “Remind me your name, I'm sorry, I can't seem to place you...”

“Stephan Helder”, he told me with a little smile. “I just transferred here.”

Well, at least, it made me feel a little bit better about the looming prospect of Alzheimer's disease. I vaguely did remember an e-mail from Laurent informing me I'd have a transfer student from London taking my course, but I didn't think it went further into detail.

“Do you want the notes for last semester’s courses ? I could e-mail them to you.”

“No, actually, I didn’t come here for that, I have something I’d like to ask you about”, he nervously told me, as his eyes kept darting to Vlad.

“That’s fine, go ahead !” I tried to give him a reassuring smile. “This is professor Balaur, from the University of Bucharest. He might be able to help too. He's very... Savvy on the subject of this class, to put it mildly.”

I gave a quick look towards him, to which he responded with a half-wink.

“I am thinking of doing my master’s degree here”, Helder began, seemingly a bit less tense. “I talked to professor Laurent Rasab, and he agreed to tutor it, but I would like to have your tutorage as well.”

I was taken aback for a moment. No student ever asked for my tutorage on anything, not even advice on the assignments I gave out. Which wasn't very wise, as I always offered, and always ended up correcting soul-sucking essays that made me want to retire before I even reached 25.

“I don’t know that I’m qualified for that”, I told him with a laugh.

“I’m very interested in your field of study”, he exclaimed. “I would like to study the real involvement of Vlad Tepes in the fight against the ottomans, maybe try to draw the line between fiction and reality, considering his reputation, even to this day. You’ve worked on the attack on Targoviste, right ?”

At least, the lad seemed motivated. Behind me, I could hear Vlad fighting off a fit of laughter, that he hid in a cough. I took a deep breath, turned my attention back on Helder.

“Listen, why don’t you send me an e-mail, and I’ll look at my schedule to fix an appointment ? I’ll get Laurent on it, and we’ll both discuss that with you.”

He nodded, thanked me, and bolted, not before a last, strangely intense look at Vlad. I waited until the door clicked behind him, and let out a long sigh.

“You will be the death of me, you know that ?”

He stepped closer to me, and moved my hair out of my shoulders. I shivered as his fingers ran through the whole length of the strands. “Not with that high a neckline, you can be sure of that.” As he stepped back, he let his knuckles slide down my spine, and denied all responsibility when I protested. Bastard. I put my laptop in my briefcase, and went to turn off the lights.

“By the way, when were you born ? Sources aren’t clear on the date”, I asked as we made our way to the exit.

“March 14th.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I was born the first time on march 14th, the Year of Our Lord 1430, amen.”, he dramatically declared, signing himself upside down.

“You are being childish, for a 590 year-old man.”

“That was fast math, I’m impressed.”

Couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic. I opted for a classic, and rolled my eyes at him.

“I was hoping to see that delightful girlfriend of yours, Leah, was it ?”, he told me as we walked through the mostly empty corridors of the old building.

I sighed. “Not my girlfriend. She's at work today, and believe me, I would rather have spent the day with her.”

“I will pretend I didn’t hear that”, he hissed, falsely offended.

I was starting to get used to his company. Without being so drastic as to _enjoy_ it, his presence at my side didn’t seem so ominous anymore. During my lectures, he had been listening intently, nodding along when I was in the right. I don’t know if he even noticed he did. Before every pause, he somehow slipped out of the room, and came back right as I dismissed class with coffee, and a written list of every historical character I mentioned, commenting on their personality, or their quirks. The whole time, he spoke in a hushed voice, half in french, so that no one but me would hear or understand. As a french person myself, I had never thought having a foreign accent was as sexy as everyone seemed to believe, which is why I worked on mine constantly. However. When he spoke french, the way he rolled his ‘r’s, or pronounced some words, sent darts to my chest. I sometimes had to gather all the strength of my will to listen to what he actually said.

Lost in thought, I almost didn’t notice we were almost at his car. As usual, he opened the door for me. For once, I didn't debate him, and just got in.

I plugged my iPod into the radio, and set my ‘driving at night’ playlist, masterfully crafted over the years. Not necessarily sad, but definitely not upbeat. Vlad didn’t say anything, but I caught him mouthing the lyrics of the chorus, once he caught them. I nestled into my seat, letting my head press against the window. I watched the street lamps light up the raindrops on the glass as they rolled down. The whole ride was quiet on our parts, but it didn’t feel awkward, as it often does. When he stopped in front of my building, I stopped the music, and hesitated a second. Before I got out, I turned to Vlad.

“Five minutes, wait for me at my window.”

Not leaving him the time to reply, I got out, and through the front door. I don’t think I ever climbed my stairs so fast. Locking behind me, I hurried to feed the monster, already trying to climb my leg in outrage, and shut myself in my room. As I expected, he was waiting outside, on the fire escape stairs. I opened the window, kneeling on my bed. He sat on the windowsill, waiting for me to talk.

“If we are to continue this…” I tried to find the appropriate term.

“Relationship ?”, he proposed.

“If we are to continue _t_ _his_ ”, I rephrased, gesturing to put emphasis, “I have to make some things clear.” He nodded, and I took a deep breath. “First, we don’t tell Leah what you are. I don’t want that on her mind. Second, you don’t murder people. I just can’t go around being friends with someone who drinks humans like Capri-Suns every night.”

“How do you suggest I feed, then ?”, he asked. I didn’t think about that. He leaned closer, grinning. “Are you offering yourself in exchange ?”

Instinctively, I jerked myself back to the edge of my bed. He apologized. Squinting at him, I sat back where I was. A bit too soon for that sort of jokes.

“Can’t you ‘go vegan’ ?”, I asked, air-quoting. “Eat animals ?”

He sighed. “I could. It doesn’t do me well, to be honest.” He looked... embarrassed. “You saw it firsthand. The horse just made me hungrier. Less… controlled.” He took a pause. “I would rather murder some humans than put you at risk again.”

I felt a tiny pinch to my heart. Ah. “Does it hurt ?”, I asked, in the only tiny whisper that managed to get out of my throat.

He snapped his head toward me. “I beg your pardon ?”

“Does it hurt, when you feed ? The people you feed on, I mean”, I precised, a bit louder, yet still coming out squeaky.

He seemed to take a moment to debate his answer, taking an inspiration, and deciding against it a couple of times. “It does not”, he finally breathed out. “It takes you away, where you want to be most.”

_A beach, infinite. A dark sky and a setting sun. Soft waves, and golden sand._

“Can you at least promise you won’t _kill_ anyone ?”

“Ah !” He sighed, seeming relieved, and a bit disappointed. He looked back at me, with a soft smile. “They will dream, and not remember, or feel a thing. I promise.”

I slowly nodded, and propped myself up on the windowsill, feet still safely on my bed. I looked up at him, and his expression softened ever so slightly. The moon and the lampposts cast a blue and orange light on his features, playing along the curves and sharp edges of his face.

“Is that all, dear ?”, he asked.

“Don’t call me ‘dear’”, I instantly retorted.

“Fine, darling.”

I groaned, throwing my head back as I heard his soft laughter. As I brought my head back down, it was to find his hand, curled under my chin. His thumb brushed lightly past my lip, almost by accident, to finish on my cheek. My heart stopped a second. He hummed, and placed a kiss on my forehead.

“Sleep well, Eris.”

I breathed in, but just like that, he was gone, leaving me to look out for a bat, quickly vanishing in the night sky.

  
  


_Someone, close, was also looking out for the bat as it flew over the rooftops. A ray of moonlight caught a glimpse of silver hair, the frost of a blue eye. It couldn’t happen again. Not after the last disaster, and the one before that. The thin, long fingers clenched so hard into their palms, drops of red tricked down, slowly. Before any drop could be lost to the ground, a pale tongue took care of it._

_The Council wouldn’t be pleased._


	9. Chapter 9

During the following weeks, the presence of the Count became almost familiar. Every day, he waited for me with a different kind of pastry. I tried to protest at first, but quickly had to make my peace with it. At some point, seeing me wince at my terrible coffee, he forbade me to drink it anymore, and added that to my daily breakfast. I asked him exactly once why he insisted on feeding me, to which he replied that he liked my blood healthy, with a toothy grin. I hit him over the arm, he laughed. Other than that, he was careful not to step over my boundaries, and seemed to find the way to only be there at the appropriate time.

That was not the case for Leah, however, who was delighted to see Vlad was going to be a recurring presence in our lives. The two of them got along far better than I would have wanted. Vlad especially enjoyed playing along with her when she started asking probing questions about the both of us, although I had to admit he was an expert at deviating any question that could have revealed his true nature.

It took me some time to fully realize how much he had actually seen, and lived. He died around the 1470s, which meant he had all the time in the world to see the Sistine Chapel being painted, the construction of the Eiffel Tower, or the damn french Revolution. He could have just been a very polyvalent historian, which is what I told Leah. She interpreted that as a challenge, considering he and I were, as she put it, “introverted nerds who need to see the light of the sun once in a goddamn while”. She started dragging us along in random activities. There was a pottery class, to which I was barely able to make the Leaning Flower Pot Of Pisa, while she somehow made an incredible owl sculpture, and Vlad had made a delicate greek-inspired vase. Seeing him, sleeves rolled up over his elbows, hair tied up in a ponytail, his long fingers working in precise, expert gestures, probably had noting to do with my absolute failure to make anything correct. I decided then that manual activities were a no-go for me in the car ride, where I sulked on the backseat, while Leah and Vlad were still crying-laughing about my sorry excuse for a pot.

After the rousing success of that experience, she wasn't about to stop. We did a haunted castle themed escape game, which Vlad curiously sucked at. That would explain some stuff. Leah then found out that a Renaissance faire was taking place in a small town, about an hour or two outside the city, and decided we definitely had to go. I tried to pretend I had too much work and wouldn't be able to make it, but Vlad and her insisting, I caved, and marked down my calendar with the red pen of defeat.

Being stuck in period costumes with the both of them wasn't the only reason I tried protesting. Laurent really did throw a ton of work on my shoulders, and that wasn't considering the whole Stephan Helder situation. The kid was highly motivated, sure, but he started making me feel uneasy, for some reason. After all my classes, he came to chat, and always found a way to ask questions about Vlad. Strangely phrased questions, or about how he couldn't find publications under his name. Legitimate questions, to be fair, but his insistence was bugging me.

“I'm telling you, that is weird. Those are weird questions”, I told Vlad, sitting on my windowsill. He didn't react. “I am serious, what if he knew ?”

“How would he know ?”, he sighed. “Why would he even want to know ?”

“Well, that's a fair question. Which needs an answer, don't you think ?”

He tilted his head, softly smiling. “I think you are being a bit paranoid.”

“I spend most of my free time hanging out with an immortal murder-machine, I think I deserve the right to be a bit paranoid”, I snapped.

“Fair enough”, he laughed.

Being immortal had to have dulled his sense of danger. Although, I could see how a skinny 20-year-old medieval history student wouldn't spontaneously raise red flags.

“By the way, I am going back to Romania”, he told me.

I felt a small pinch to my heart. “Oh.”

“Only for a few days”, he completed with a smirk. “I have to pick up some things, and oversee the moving company. I do not trust them with half my things.”

I furrowed my brow. “Moving company ?”

“Oh, did I not mention it ?”, he innocently replied. “Before I even arrived, I bought a little something a little ways outside the city. The renovations are done, and you of all people understand I _cannot_ live there without a decent library.”

I took a second to process it. He had a smug look, obviously enjoying my confusion. I had to say I didn't even think about where he spent his nights. I figured he either turned into a bat and hanged somewhere upside down, or simply didn't sleep. Did he even need to rest ? Gods, so many questions I didn't even think to ask. Every day, I felt like I discovered a puddle, only to realize it was part of a lake.

“When I come back, would you come visit ?”, he asked, sounding a bit hesitant.

“Sure. I mean, as long as I don't have to wear heels if you decide to go feral on me.”

He took a dead-serious expression. “I promise you, Eris Cetero, that as long as you live, I will never, ever, make you wear heels again.”

I threw my head back with a groan of agony. Was it so bad that this kind of humor was actually funny to me now ? Was having a six century old bloodthirsty creature imply he might try to murder me _again_ really that hilarious ? Apparently so, as I was unable to contain a giggle. Maybe it was because the look he had was all but threatening. Maybe because every time I was near him, even with all that happened, I felt... Safe. For a few weeks, I had been able to decide staying over at the University library until ungodly hours. I didn't have to thing about what time I had to leave at before it became too risky for a woman with very limited knowledge of martial arts, alone.

I mean, he was arguably more dangerous than any encounter I might have had, but still... I knew he wouldn't hurt me. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Then again, he had plenty of occasions to lose it. Last week, for instance, I had no idea what to expect when I left my apartment, dosed with painkillers, as Mother Nature, that ruthless bitch, decided to drop by for her monthly visit. He was simply waiting for me at the usual spot, looking a bit off, but holding a large box of chocolates along with my breakfast. He made himself scarce for the following three days, but I could tell he _tried_ to act natural.

“I should let you get some rest”, Vlad told me, dragging me out of my thoughts.

I nodded, slowly. “When are you leaving ?”

“Some time tomorrow. I will still pick you up, if that is what worries you.”

He smiled, teasing. “Yeah, that's... That's it. I'd miss my personal chauffeur.” I looked away a second. “Now, get off my window, I need to sleep.”

“Of course, my Lady”, he replied, and backed away with an overly low bow. “I bid you good night.”

Once again, with a fluttering sound, the usual bat replaced the tall man. I called out to him, offering my hand as a perch. The tiny black creature gripped a finger. I would have expected a Vampire Bat, to be fair, and almost laughed when I realized it was a common little brown bat, only changing in the darker color.

“Well, don't you look adorable”, I told him.

_I could take a more frightening appearance, if you want me to._

“Telepathy, huh ? That's new”, I commented. Nothing surprised me that much anymore, to be honest.

_I try not to pry, it's usually considered rude._

“You don't say.”

He stretched out his wings. They were so thin I could see the tiny veins running across the membrane. I had to use all my will not to just scoop him up and pet his tiny head, or scratch his belly. Now, that would have been rude. Probably. Those kind of reflexions were a bit new to me.

_I would stay here all night if I could, but I am starting to feel a bit hungry._

“Oh, by all means. I won't keep you.”

I heard a small squeaky sound I interpreted as a laugh, and he left. I closed the window, and the quiet made me rethink the situation. If he was gone, that would leave me some time to look into the Helder situation without him interfering. Now, I just needed the help of my favorite professional stalker. With a little smile, I slipped under my covers, and almost instantly faded into sleep.

~ ~ ~

After Vlad let me off at the University, he only came over to say hi to Leah, and announce his departure. He left right after, with a kiss for her hand, and one for my forehead.

“Do you need some ice ? You look pretty hot”, she snarked at me once he was gone. “A cold shower, perhaps ?”

“Oh, shut up, will you ?”, I groaned, placing the back of my hands onto my cheeks.

She snickered. She was the best friend I could ever hope to have, but man, as soon as someone was involved, she became absolutely unbearable.

“By the way, I need your help with something”, I told her, lowering my voice a little.

“Oooh, sneaky voice, I like it already. Tell me.”

I brought her inside, and we went straight to my office, a small, cluttered room in the old building. I dragged a folding chair next to mine, behind the heavy wooden desk.

“I'm having a weird feeling about a transfer student”, I told her. “I wondered if you could-”

Before I could even finish my sentence, she had already taken out her laptop, her glasses sitting on her nose. She turned on a bunch of apps she left running in the background, and turned to me.

“Name ?”

“Stephan Helder, with 'ph'”, I told her.

I kind of felt bad about it. If it was nothing, I was just prying into his personal life – or having Leah pry, anyway. She began typing away, and in less than three minutes, she had results. Stephan Jonathan Helder, 18, your typical genius type. Skipped a few middle-school classes, finished high-school at 15, with straight-As. Spotless criminal record, less so for the medical one, with a few bad cases of pulmonary infections. Didn't have one in years, though. Seemed like he was from a good family, but then again, no information on them showed up. Huh. I asked Leah to look into them.

“That's crazy”, she said after a good five minutes. “I mean, there's barely anything.”

“You mean he's an orphan, or something ?”

“No, it's just blacked out. I mean, most of the stuff has been scraped, erased.”

She sounded annoyed, but also excited. I knew she loved a challenge.

“Nothing I can't break”, she commented, and went back to it.

After a few more minutes, she finally had a triumphal shout.

“Got 'em”, she told me. “Stephan Jonathan Helder, the father is Thomas Mark Helder, and the mother is Mary... Huh. That's a cool name.”

“What is ?”, I asked, leaning over her shoulder to read.

My blood froze in my veins instantly.

Mary Van Helsing.


	10. Chapter 10

_Mary Van Helsing._

I asked Leah if she hadn't made a mistake. She almost took offense. I sat back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. What ? How ? Van Helsing ? I mean, that could just be a freaky, freaky coincidence. I laughed nervously to myself.

“Hah, you gotta admit that's funny the Van Helsing kid wants to study the Balkanic middle ages”, Leah laughed. Ditto.

Seeing as I didn't reply, she asked if I felt alright. I took a deep breath.

“Leah, there's something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah, of course, what's- Oh, fuck.”

She turned back to her laptop, and started frantically typing, cursing under her breath as she did.

“Someone got my position. Jeez, whoever those guys are, they really don't want anyone finding out they exist !”

“What do you mean ?”

“I mean there's a very good chance we will have an unpleasant visit pretty soon.”

She sounded nervous, which was a strange color on her. She activated an emergency shutdown, and closed her computer, taking a moment sitting still, eyes staring into the void. She then stood up decidedly.

“We don't know who it was, could be nothing”, I tried to reassure her.

“Yeah well, not to boast or anything, but if they got through my defenses, I really don't wanna know. Listen, let's just crash at my place, there's a chance they pinged on the VPN and actually here.”

She was so determined, I didn't even think to contradict her. She left her laptop there, only taking her bike helmet. I grabbed my bag, and followed her out of my office. Even though she was tiny, I had trouble keeping up with her fast paces. As we sped through the corridors, I caught a glimpse of dirty hazelnut hair, and grabbed Leah's arm to take a hard right into another hallway. Felt like running into Helder right now wouldn't be the best turn of events. Plus, I was supposed to give a class he was attending, so, that.

“Thinking back exit ?”

“What else ?”

We kept half-jogging to the end of the corridor, turning a few curious heads on the way, pushed on a service door, and slipped outside. The sun blinded me a second, as we made our way to the parking lot. Leah dug her keys out of her pockets, and unlocked the pad on her motorcycle, cursing a few more times every time she ripped around the keyhole. She turned to give me her helmet, and stopped halfway, wincing. Ah.

“Eris Cetero and Leah Fox. I'm going to need you to come with us.”

A very sharply dressed woman was standing a few paces away, icy stare and tightly pulled dark hair. She looked composed, unyielding, and was flanked on both sides by two men built like wardrobes, poorly dissimulating a handgun under their suit jackets. Not the kind of person to try to run away from, then.

“Listen, we didn't mean any harm. We could all just forget it.”

Sometimes, her bluntness had some perks. She had moved over in front of me, her hand grasping mine.

“You are not in trouble. At least not with us”, the woman continued. “We thought we would wait more, but you forced our hand.”

“We have no idea what you're talking about”, Leah kept going, still on the defensive.

I said nothing, trying to keep a straight face.

“My name is Mary Van Helsing. I work in the Murray Institute for the Neutralization of Abnormalities. We have a lot to discuss, especially with you, Miss Cetero.”

Ah shit. Let's think about this rationally. There was no way I could escape that situation. I also didn't want Leah to get in trouble, and I started to see she was about to keep on going if I didn't do anything. I took a deep breath, which had her stop.

“Alright. We have crossed a line digging into things we shouldn't have. You are entitled to some explanations, and if you feel like this can't be done in a parking lot, so be it. Lead the way”, I declared, trying to be as calm and composed as I could.

I was met by a look of disbelief on Leah's face, and an emotionless nod from Mary, who turned on her heels without a word. Can't believe my incredible charm hadn't worked on her yet. Leah's hand softened, and I took a hold of it as we walked to the intimidating sedan waiting for us.

~ ~ ~

The ride took a bit longer than I thought. From the moment Leah started going deeper in her search, and the moment they arrived, it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes, and yet, it took well over half an hour to get to our destination. Maybe they were already close, and we just got unlucky. Seemed about right.

We remained silent the whole car ride. You couldn't have hacked through the tension using a damn chainsaw, at this point. Leah and I held hands, so tight I saw her knuckles going white. She was shaking a little, and I hated myself for putting her through this. If only I weren't a nosy fucking idiot.

We arrived to a decrepit-looking building, most likely turn of the 19th century architecture. Above the entrance, the stone looked like it had been engraved, a while ago, but the script was almost completely worn out. Inside, the emptiness gave an echo to every step, the ground overrun with cables coming from other parts of the house. We kept on going straight forward, went down a slope, and arrived to a huge freight elevator. It made a shrieking noise as it went down for a while, so deep we might as well have gone straight down to hell. If you believe in that sort of thing.

The elevator shook as it stopped, opening on a surprisingly high-tech complex.

“Ladies, welcome to M.I.N.A.”, Mary told us as we stepped off.

The first room was a large hall, open on two more stories, visible through balconies, on which were plastered neon lights. In neatly aligned cubicles, employees worked on god knows what, piles of paper cluttering all desks, the intermittent sound of phones and the indistinct chatter of radio making the noise almost unbearable. Mary kept on walking, some people greeting her as she passed them, and giving Leah and I the strangest looks. Ooh, boy. That was about to be fun.

She opened large fire-breaking doors, and we went on a corridor, making a few turns. As I had learned by now, I memorized the turns. Right, left at the weird plant, another left at the water fountain. She opened a door for us, leaving us to enter before her. That looked awfully like an interrogation room, with one table at the center, and two uncomfortable chairs. The double sided-mirror occupying one of the walls was also a dead giveaway.

One of the guards stopped Leah as she went after me. As she protested, they told us they would explain the situation separately. If they actually knew anything, that might be the smarter option. I reassured her, smiling, and went into the interrogation room. One of the guards came with me, and closed the door, only to stand in a corner, silent. I dragged out a chair to sit, waiting for anything to happen.

“Not really talkative around here, huh ?”, I asked, knowing I wouldn't get an answer.

Moments later, Mary came back into the room, holding a few files, one distinctly bearing my name. It does something to your ego, to have your name on a secret society's secret case file, in their secret underground bunker. The woman sat on the other side of the table, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Miss Cetero, do you really have no idea why you're here ?”, she asked.

Of course I know why I'm here. You know I know. You saw me try to fly into the wind with my partner in crime as soon as we knew you found us. I just had to put my best performance on. Tremble, Hollywood.

“Well, we did hack into some pretty secure servers to get information that we weren't supposed to get”, I told her, and shrugged. “That seems pretty clear to me.”

“There's that, but I want to talk about something else.”

Her face was completely unfeeling, yet her voice was soft, a bit too maternal for my tastes. I had a little smile, encouraging her to talk. There was no risk if I wasn't talking.

“Do you believe at all in the, quote-unquote, supernatural ?”

If she kept talking to me like I was a particularly simple child, I'd show her something supernatural pretty damn soon. I worked to keep down the wave of righteous anger crashing against the insides of my chest.

“Do you mean... ghosts ?”, I ventured.

“Among others. I'm talking more specifically about vampires.”

Her eyes were gleaming behind the rectangles of her glasses. I didn't react, other than a little laugh. Alright, keep it up, play dumb.

“Vampires ? Come on, is this a joke ? Did Leah put you up to this ?”, I giggled.

Not that dumb, fuck's sake. Nobody was this stupid. I actually wanted to kill myself. I was so in character my voice went up an octave all on its own. Repressing a shiver, I kept on smiling like a brainless fish.

“I'm afraid I'm dead serious. As... Phantasmagorical as it may seem, such creatures exist, and we believe you, and your friend, may be in grave danger.”

Well, that seemed to actually work pretty well. Not really trying to think of the reasons why I had so little trouble passing as brain-dead, I had a nervous laughter, and kept going.

“Do I have to look around for a man in a black cape next time I leave my building, Mrs. Van Helsing ?”

“Doctor Van Helsing, actually. And rather, you should look around for the man you know as professor Vlad Balaur.”

Ah, direct, I see.

“I'm not sure I get your meaning.”

“We have good reasons to think Vlad Balaur is a vampire, trying to pass himself up as Vlad Dracula Tepes, a character you of all people know well.”

I didn't say anything, but my heart sank to my stomach.

“In what I will tell you, I want you to assume everything I say is true”, she started, leaning back. “In 1896, a team made up from Jonathan Harker, Quincey Morris, Mina Murray-Harker, and Abraham Van Helsing, put an end to the reign of terror of the vampire known as Dracula. It seemed he was no other than Vlad Tepes, the Impaler, who supposedly had, quote-unquote, “died” during the 15th century. At his return to London, he decided to create this institution, to be certain that should such a horrific event happen again, people would have the knowledge and resources to deal with it.”

She took a pause, gauging my reaction. I tried to keep my innocent façade, but has strictly no idea wether she could tell I was faking. The feeling of dread creeping its way into my mind didn't help either.

“Bram Stoker was an accomplice to the whole ordeal, and published his book, which was explicitly branded as fiction. You know the rest, concerning the sometimes questionable turn of the theme into popular culture. However, vampires, among other numerous creatures, are still a threat on humanity today. And a lot of them take inspiration from ancient figures, like Count Dracula. This would not be the first time one of them fashioned himself the Dark Prince Returned.”

“I'm sorry”, I interrupted, “But how can you expect me to believe any of that ? Do you even have any proof ?”

I tried to keep my panic out of my tone. I didn't want to believe it, but what if she was right ? She couldn't be, right ? He knew so much about everything, and... I tried to calm myself down. Just need to get through this, I'll talk this out with the man himself. All would be well.

“Even if you were right, even if professor Balaur _was_ a vampire”, I began as she only kept staring at me. “He never tried to hurt me, or had any reprehensible behavior toward me or Leah. Why would I need to be worried ?”

She looked at me for what seemed like hours, and finally pulled a file from her pile, and slid it towards me. She then sat back, and lit a cigarette. She offered one, and I declined politely, asking what was in the file.

“All around the city, for the last month, we had a count of twenty-four murders”, she declared. “Look at the pictures, and you tell me what kind of person could have done this.”

Shaking a bit, I opened the file, and instantly had to put a hand over my mouth. You can watch hours and hours of horror movies, and never get used to anything like that. Everything was red. Seeping into the fabrics, clothing, mattresses, drapes. Splattered on the walls, dripping from the ceilings. Body parts, bent in impossible angles, flesh frayed, shredded in long clawing marks, leaving the internal organs and their contents spilling out of the deformed corpses. Throats. Open. So torn apart it just looked like a bundle of rubber tubes. On one of the victim's descriptive notes, I glimpsed the word “pregnant”. I closed my eyes, looking away. There were hundreds. Mary offered again, and I took the cigarette. I closed the case file, taking a long drag.

“What happened in Romania, Miss Cetero ?”, she asked, a bit more softly.

I raised my head to meet her gaze. “I... Nothing happened. I- I visited some museums, hiked a little, why do you ask ?”

My eyes welled up with tears, and keeping on a neutral smile was a physical effort at this point. I kept seeing flashes of teeth, the horse, inside out, bled dry.

“We believe he might come from there, which is why he would identify with Dracula. He could have taken a liking to you there, and followed you here.”

“I think I would remember an encounter with something that does... that does this on a daily basis”, I snapped, fighting through tears. That couldn't be right. It couldn't.

“Your memory could have been wiped. It's not uncommon, once again.”

I started to feel dizzy. Maybe it was the cigarette. I didn't smoke very often, so that was probably that, right ? I must have remained silent a while, because Mary leaned forward, putting back the file on the pile.

“Listen, I will make this as clear as possible”, she snapped. “If we are to stop this creature, we need your full support. For some reason, he trusts you more than most. You cannot tell him about your knowledge of this place.”

She slid a card across the table.

“If you are ever in danger, or need any information, call us. We will call you if necessary.”

She put out her cigarette on a portable ashtray, and I did the same, mechanically.

“What did you tell Leah ?”, I asked.

“Nothing more than she needs to know, which does not include anything about Vlad Balaur. We think the less people know, the safer it is.”

I nodded, and slipped the card into my pocket. Nothing about this felt safe, or right, or anything but confusing, and nauseating. They escorted me out, and I still felt engulfed in cotton, everything muted, even when Leah nearly jumped into my arms as I got out. I barely realized I walked, or the time spent in the car, until they dropped me off at home.

I dragged myself to my apartment, and went straight to bed, half expecting to see him there, on the balcony. Instead, I found a note. I opened the window, and took the folded sheet of paper. The same he used back in Romania, and the same fine, elegant handwriting. It was weighed down with a polished rock, which I noticed, upon further inspection, contained a multitude of little fossils.

_I have heard historians like old things, here is one._

_For another, I will be back soon._

_All my love,_

_Vlad._


	11. Chapter 11

“Eris, anyone home ?”

Leah's soft voice dragged me out of the void I'd been staring into for the past... Well, Gods know how long. I raised my head to meet her slightly worried gaze.

“Yeah, sorry. You wouldn't believe how many of those can't make the difference between a century and a millennium, it's appalling.”

She didn't seem that amused at my sorry excuse for a justification.

“Have you seen the bags under your eyes ?”, she reprimanded me in a hushed voice. “How long since you had a decent night of sleep ? You're so pale, you look like a damn vampire.”

I had a dry laugh. She wasn't wrong, to be fair. For the past four days, I barely got any sleep, any noise waking me up in a cold sweat, when I just didn't lay frozen in bed, unable to close my eyes, for hours on end, until the sun got up. Mostly, I only stayed up because of a carefully thought-out blend of coffee and anxiety.

“I'm fine, Leah. I just didn't put on any makeup this morning. That is my face”, I told her, trying to sound offended.

“Don't bullshit me. Go. Home.”

Her tone didn't invite arguing about it. She reached across the table, and took my hand in hers, smiling. She proposed calling me an Uber, but I figured walking would clear my head. I put away my stuff, leaving her to her books.

The library was almost entirely empty at this hour, and the normally automatic lights didn't even turn on as I passed through the halls. I slapped my badge on the door to get it open, and was welcomed by a gush of freezing air from the outside. The sun had only just set, and the orange lamp posts had everything seem grey, except the deep red of the sky, near the horizon. Everything was quiet, save from the intermittent cawing of a crow, or the rustling of leaves, in the light, but biting breeze that had set in with the night.

I started walking. The sound of my boots echoed in the empty campus' streets. At this time, there was about a tram every twenty minutes. If I walked fast, I'd catch the next one. As I started walking faster, I couldn't help but feel followed. That feeling, once it crossed your mind, could only set, seeping into every pore of your being, until you... I turned back. Nothing. Not even a shadow at the corner of a building, a suspiciously flickering light. Nothing. Even so, my chest felt too tight to breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I kept on going toward the tram stop. Focus on that, the tram stop. Breathe in. I stopped, pushing my back against a post. Breathe out. I turned my head, trying to relax my tense muscles. In the corner of my eye, a shadow. I screamed, jumped back.

“I dream of a day where your first reaction to seeing me won't be that of a deer in headlights.”

He stepped in the light, as elegant as always, in his long, dark coat. He looked exceptionally well, about as much as I had to look dreadful. He took a step forward, and I instinctively took one back. He stopped, a look of disbelief painted on his features. He looked almost hurt by me pulling back.

“Is something wrong, Eris ?”, he asked, concerned, but equally demanding.

I tried to find an answer. Yes. Yes, something's wrong. Everything is goddamn fucking wrong.

“I'm gonna miss my tram”, I muttered.

I turned back to the way I was going, and in a second, I felt his hand on my arm stop me. My heart sank to my stomach, and I broke free of his grasp. My heart beat so fast I was almost gasping for air.

“Did something happen while I was gone ?”

“It's just- I don't- Nothing hap-”

My words came stuck in my throat. I didn't even know what to say. Where to start. He placed both his hands on my shoulders, calmly asking me to look up at him.

“You... You are shaking, what on earth... Am I causing this ? Do I scare you ?”

I raised my head to meet his gaze, jaws clenched not to have my teeth chatter. He looked so genuinely confused, I was finally able to take a deep breath.

“Can I trust you ?”, I managed to whisper.

He didn't answer a moment, seeming less ton consider his answer, than what prompted the question.

“Without question.” He was looking straight into my eyes, the intensity of his gaze leaving no place for a lie. Fuck, I wanted to believe him. The weight of his hands on my shoulders made me feel safe. How could it make me feel safe ? Wasn't that just another trick ? Another way to make me trust him, just to make the job easier ?

Tears I didn't notice building up burned my cheeks as they rolled down. He moved a hand to my face, and erased them with his thumb, softly.

“What happened ?”, he asked again.

_If we are to stop this creature, we need your full support. For some reason, he trusts you more than most. You cannot tell him about your knowledge of this place._

I gently pulled myself from his grasp, and stepped back, forcing a smile.

“Nothing happened. I'm just tired”, I told him. “I really have to catch my tram, Vlad.”

“Nonsense, I'm bringing you home”, he insisted. “You are very obviously distressed, and lying to me. Get in the car.”

The authoritative tone had me shiver. I knew I didn't have any choice, in the end, and nodded. He opened the door for me, as always. I sat down, buckled up. Focused on the line of led lights, moving in a slow, red wave.

“If you refuse to talk to me”, Vlad began as he started the car, “I can only assume this has something to do with me. Now, understand that I could take a minute and find out, but I meant what I said, when I told you you could trust me.”

He kept focused on the road. I could tell him everything. That would be a risk. If he really was who MINA said he was, if he did... If he did what they said he did... That would most likely be my death warrant. If he started being too suspicious, he could just read my mind, and given how deeply those images were engraved into my brain, it wouldn't be too hard. I had no idea how to go about this.

“I found out the reason why Stephan was putting me off.”

“And that is ?”

“We looked into his family tree, and his mother is a Mary Van Helsing, from the Murray Institute for the Neutralization of Abnormalities.”

I said that on a single breath, and awaited his reaction. His face didn't betray any emotion, but his silence was speaking volumes.

“They found us out pretty fast”, I continued, figuring I was on too deep already. “We were taken to their headquarters, or whatever that bunker was. They were suspicious that I was acquainted with a vampire, posing as the respectable professor Vlad Balaur.”

“And what did you tell them ?”

His tone was frighteningly neutral. “For some reason I still can't explain, nothing”, I replied. “I had them believe I had no idea such things existed, less so that you were one.”

He had a short hum, but remained silent.

“They told me you were posing as a vampire they killed in 1896, Count Dracula, who apparently is quite the messiah in the Vampire World”, I jabbed at him. “That you probably manipulated my memories, my emotions, just so I'd end up like the others !”

Tears were streaming down my face, and despite my best efforts, my voice was shaking in anger. I couldn't help but think he could pull over and snap my neck at any moment. Might as well make the best of my last moments.

“Would you please clarify what you mean by 'the others' ?”

He sounded so calm, so composed. I tried not to think on the implications.

“They showed me the pictures, Vlad.” My chest hurt so bad. I barely was able to keep taking. “In retrospect, you were pretty clean with the horse. I guess he deserved better than human beings do, right ?”

“Eris, I don't understand-”

“Don't fucking lie to me !” My voice broke. I had no way to remain calm, the taste of bile going up my throat. “I saw it, I fucking saw the- the-” I slapped my hand over my mouth, desperately trying to catch my breath.

Vlad had the turning signal on, and pulled over. I couldn't stop crying, my face buried into my hands, unable to form any coherent sentence. The car stopped. He didn't say anything. At any moment, I thought I'd feel his hands around my neck, or his teeth. Instead, he only called out my name, softly, barely audible through my sobbing.

“Eris, please.”

I dried up my face as best I could with my scarf.

“You promised. You promised you wouldn't hurt anybody”, I managed to stammer between hiccups.

“I have not-”

“I saw the pictures !”, I repeated. “They showed me- So much blood-”

I turned my head to his. He slowly raised a hand to my face, hesitantly, waiting for a rebuffal. I did nothing, and he pushed strands of hair off my forehead, and cupped my cheek. His touch was so soothing. Not a bad feeling to die on.

“And you believed them ?”

“I- I- Of course, they just- Who else ?”

“I have no idea”, he admitted, his voice soft, and calm. “Eris, I have not, not a single time, done anything contrary to our agreement. I have not taken a life since our second meeting.”

I wanted to believe him, so bad. I wanted to believe he wasn't the monster responsible for the contents of Mary Van Helsing's case-file.

“How can I believe you ? How can I be certain you're not lying to me ?”, I breathed out, still resting my head onto his hand.

“You can't. You can only trust me.” He leaned in, placing a light kiss on my forehead, as was his habit. He pulled away, keeping close. “Do you trust me ?”

“Yes”, I replied, without thinking about it.

I did. As stupid, dangerously stupid as it was, I did. What else could I do ? What was the better option ? Were the MINA guys that much more trustworthy ? Well, if you took into account the fact that _they_ didn't try to kill me yet, probably.

“As for the fact that I would be my own usurper, I don't know how to argue for it, to be honest. I have rarely been faced with the task of proving my identity.”

He sat back behind the wheel, and started the car.

“You would do well to remember that MINA was founded by people who were so terrified of me, they left without assuring themselves of the success of their mission, which led to accounts of my death being greatly exaggerated.”

I couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

“There, I like that better.”

The rest of the ride was mostly silent, which was still arguably better than crying. Vlad finally pulled over in front of my building. I got out of the car, took a few steps, but didn't go further than that. Behind me, I head his door open.

“Should I wait for you on your balcony ?”

I took a deep breath. “No.” I turned on my heels to face him. “You're taking the stairs, for once.”

“I... Beg your pardon ?”

“Just follow me, will you ?”

He shut his door, and I went to open my building's door. I buzzed us in, holding the door for him. Guess he didn't need an invitation for the whole building, huh. What the hell was I doing ? There's a difference between not thinking someone does gruesome murders in his spare time, and inviting them over for a cup of tea ! Especially if their drink of choice isn't your damn Russian Earl Grey !

Well, too late to turn back now. I tried to keep a sense of dignity as we climbed the stairs. It didn't seem to put any strain on him, all the while I'd been living here for years, and was still dying inside. Catching my breath as gracefully as I could, I unlocked my door. Zardoz came running at me, aggressively rubbing himself against my boots, screaming bloody murder, or, in that case, famine.

“You have a... cat”, Vlad stated.

I had a short laugh as I picked up the protesting beast. “What, are you allergic ?”

“They... Don't like me.”

He looked at the animal with some sort of defiance.

“Well, this one hates everyone, don't feel like it's personal.”

He stood at the door, nearly taking up all the space of the frame. Holding the cat in my arms gave me courage, as I felt his low purr against my hands. I took a few steps back, and had a courteous bow.

“ _Voivode_ Vlad Dracula Tepes, me and this cat welcome you into our home.”

He smiled, and stepped in.


	12. Chapter 12

It was a strange feeling, watching over the kettle as a very tense immortal was sitting on my couch, seemingly engaged in a vicious battle of looks with my cat, himself sitting on the end of the bar. At least, his attention wasn't focused on the very pink dressing robe I slipped into as soon as I got inside. Leah bought it for me as a joke, but it was actually very comfortable. Vlad didn't comment on it, but I caught him hiding a laugh with a cough when I came out of my room, wrapped in it.

“Do you drink tea ? I mean, I know what you drink, but can you even drink or eat normal things, for all that matter ?”

“Eating regular food males me sick”, he answered, still fixated on the animal rather than me. “I can, however, enjoy a drink or two.”

“Good.”

I got two mismatched cups – the only ones available –, and filled them both. I handed him one, which finally had him turn his attention to me. His cool fingers brushed against mine as he took it.

“Careful, it's hot.”

“Half an hour ago, you accused me of multiple murders, and now you worry I might burn myself ?”, he laughed.

I sat on the other end of the couch, sneering at him. He had a point. I stared at my cup, bobbing the tea bag as if it made any difference.

“I am far from complaining, but why did you invite me in ?”

I tried finding my words, remaining silent a moment. He didn't press, politely waiting for an answer, giving intermittent looks to the cat.

“I... Haven't slept in days, Vlad.” I started, fighting against tears welling up. “Every time I close my eyes, I see them. I find myself jumping at every noise, every shadow in the corner of my eye, I-”

I only noticed how much my hands were shaking when he took my cup, and set it on the table along with his.

“When I believed it was you, I had at least the hope that you wouldn't hurt me, or Leah, or someone I care about. Now I...” I took a pause to take a breath. “I'm terrified.”

I risked a look. His brow was furrowed, but he had a little smile.

“If you let _me_ in for that reason, you really must be desperate.”

I tried to laugh, but it got caught in my throat.

“Eris, you have to go to sleep. MINA tried to scare you. For all you know, they could have lied to make you talk.” He took my hand in his. “I am surprised, but glad you did not.”

He leaned over to catch my gaze. A feeling of peace washed over me as I looked into his eyes. I wondered if he could do that. Manipulate my emotions, just like that. I didn't have the time to wonder for long, as he suddenly picked me up in his arms. I had a squeal of surprise, and threw my arms around his neck as a reflex.

“Vlad, what-”

“You need a good night of sleep, you look less alive than I do.”

His tone was firm, but still tainted by amusement. “Well, that's ironic. And I don't need to be carried, I can still walk !” My protests were only met with a grin.

“I know, but I can hear your heartbeats, and I like to have my fun.”

I felt my cheeks burning up instantly. He stepped into my room, and laid me down on my bed. I slipped under the covers and he sat next to me, glancing around in the semi darkness. As soon as the sun set, I never turned off the set of fairy lights running across the walls, bathing the room in an ultraviolet light. His shirt was glowing, and I couldn't help but wonder what his teeth would look like.

“Can you tell me a story ?”, I asked.

He smiled, brushed a few strands of hair out of my face. My heart stopped a second, while he seemed to think a moment.

“Did I ever tell you about my first voyage into the New World ?”, he began. I shook my head, while he kept softly running his hands through my hair.

He did have a talent for narration. His voice was soothing, and as the story went on, I found myself drifting, along the waves surrounding the frigate, the wind in the sails, the first cries of seagulls as they reached the shore. He talked softly at first, but was soon caught in his own tale, and I couldn't help but smile at the passion in his tone. He started to fade, and I rested my eyes, just a second.

~ ~ ~

A familiar smell dragged me out of my sleep, and I blinked off my drowsiness, slowly sitting up. After a glance at my phone, I noticed it was already past 10am. Most sleep than I had in the whole week. I stood up, and turned off the fairy lights. Stumbling to my living room, I was surprised to not hear my cat's screaming, but a cheerful, definetly human chatter.I found Vlad sitting behind the bar, and Leah, at the stove, flipping pancakes, her hair shining like pale gold under the sunlight.

“Hah, told you food would wake her up”, she told Vlad, smiling. “Grab a plate, honey, you'll need strength for today !”

“What's today ?”, I asked, a bit confused.

“Renaissance faire, don't tell me you forgot !”

Ah, right. I had to admit some of the recent events took my mind off it. It might be a good distraction, now that I thought about it. I sat at the bar, and thanked Leah as she put a pile of warm pancakes on my plate, handing me a bottle of maple syrup, and a cup of steaming coffee.

“Well, good thing Vlad has a better memory than you, because apparently, he picked up some outfits”, Leah told me as she finished up her batch.

Oh no. That wasn't good.

“Can't we just go like that ?”, I asked, delving into the breakfast. As always, it was amazing, the absolute perfect balance in taste and fluffiness, an just warm enough. God, I had to marry her at some point.

“Are you kidding ?”, she indignated herself. “No way. Finish up and we're dressing up.”

Vlad was quietly laughing, and I gave him a killer look, to which he only responded with a wink. With a glance around the room, I noticed two large leather suitcases, probably holding the outfits. As soon as I was half done, Leah excitedly dragged me back to my room, as Vlad helped bring the suitcases in. He then left, closing the door.

“Ooh, this is going to be so much fun !”, she exclaimed, opening the first case. “This is yours, and the other is mine. We'll do you first, come on, get naked !”

I sighed, knowing protests wouldn't do much of anything when she was in that sort of mood. She threw an embroidered, white linen chemise, that she insisted I wore no bra with, because “the corset will do the job fine”. For fuck's sake, corsets. I glanced at the wooden box on my desk, holding the gun. As soon as this was done, I would shoot him.

The corset wasn't so bad, to be fair. Leah took care of lacing it loosely enough so that I wouldn't faint at the first occasion, and the back support actually made it comfortable. Dressing up in the whole thing was pretty fun, even with the struggle of lacing up everything, making sure the many layers sat right in place and the overall weight of the whole costume. The fabrics were soft, finely threaded, the silk shifting colors and patterns in the light. If they weren't “originals”, they had to have cost more than a year of my doctorate scholarship. If they were, well, as a historian, I had to say they were pretty much invaluable. Not an edge frayed, a thread misplaced. They looked almost brand new, yet I was certain none of the sewing was done by machine.

“This is great, where do you think he even found those ? Do you think those are reproductions, for his work ?”, she asked as she did my hair.

“I... Maybe. That would make sense. He must have picked them up while he was back in Romania.” God, I hope it was that, and not a dress from someone he ate back in the 16th century.

Trying not to think too much about it, I helped Leah get into her dress. I had to say, he had some taste. Hers had an overall pastel tone, in blues and greens, the hem of the skirt embroidered with small flowers, climbing like vines along the slits in the fabric, revealing a pale silver-ish blue silk underskirt. She looked absolutely radiant, and I took some time braiding her hair up, leaving strands here and there. She could have been a flower nymph. I was a bit more surprised by the color scheme he chose for me. The dress was in a rich golden tone, patterned in arabesques and embroidered in dark red thread. In a small box, I found pearl necklaces, hairpieces and earrings. Fuck, he went all the way into this. I mean, being immortal had to do wonders for your bank account, but _still_.

“Come on, I'm going first, I wanna see the look on his face when he sees you!”

Not leaving me the luxury of protesting, she slipped away, leaving me to put on the shoes he picked for me. Covered with silk, embroidered in gold thread, and, to my demise, heels. Not that high, but he still broke his damn promise. Can't trust men on _anything_. Leah called me over, and I sighed, preparing myself mentally. It was way more complicated to walk in this than the 19th century skirt – which I kept, after a trip to the dry cleaner's –. I glanced at the box on my desk again. I opened the lid, considering the ornate weapon a moment. I had no guarantee that this would even work. I had no reason to distrust Vlad at this point, not much more than before, anyway. However, if I was right, if MINA was right on at least the nature of the murderer running free... Fumbling around to find the slit in my underskirt, I slipped the gun in the large pocket attached inside. Now that I thought about it, it was rather infuriating that period clothing had more pocket space than our modern stuff, and they didn't even have smartphones to carry around.

When I stepped in the living room, Vlad had changed in his own outfit. Mostly black, with navy blue and silver highlights in embroidery. Across his chest, a livery collar bearing the enameled sigil of House Draculesti, and the Wallachian coat of arms. He had a soft “Ah” when he saw me, and didn't say anything for a while. I flattened the pleats of the skirt, nervously waiting for some kind of comment.

“Well ?”, Leah asked him, a mischievous smile on her lips. He seemed to finally snap out of it, taking a breath as if he had been holding it.

“This is fine. I'm glad it suits you”, he told me after clearing his throat. “Although, it misses something.”

He picked up a box on the table, handing it to me. I opened it to find what could only be described as the most dramatic statement necklace I'd ever seen in my damn life. The center piece was a red stone, the size of a small plum, encased in intricate gold work, and surrounded by pearls and other smaller stones. The rest of it was other stones, bound together by gold chains and pearls.

“What the fuck”, I couldn't help but breathe out.

Vlad took it out of the box, slipped behind me, and set it on my chest, the cool metal against my skin sending a shiver down my spine.

“Believe it or not, it was my mother's”, he told me as he worked the clasp.

“Vlad, are those real ?”, I enquired, containing a nervous laughter.

“Depends on how nervous my answer will make you.”

He had to think this was hilarious. Fucking rich people, I swear. “Very nervous.”

“They are fake, then.”

As he left, he negligently had a hand trail along my back. Leah obviously noticed, as I saw her eyes glimmering with evil intent from across the room.

“Now that we all are hot and ready, we should get going ! I don't wanna miss the joust !”, she exclaimed.

Of course, there would be a joust. I didn't even look at the program. I bid goodbye to Zardoz, burying my face into his fluffy belly, while ignoring his meows of protest, and we all left. I was almost expecting Vlad to have traded his Jaguar for a horse-drawn carriage at this point. He disappointedly did not, and Leah dragged me into the backseat. The whole drive to the small town, Leah told us about the programmed activities from a leaflet she printed out, giving us the very strict schedule she came up with so that we wouldn't miss anything.

While she exposed her thorough research, I let my eyes drift along the countryside's landscape. Even if we were still early in the year, most trees had regained their leaves. The sky was a pale blue, and if the air was a bit chilly, given how many layers of clothing we were wearing, that wasn't so bad. Vlad had even prepared capes for the evening, which was weirdly thoughtful.

I only went a few times to the city we were headed for. It was built around the 13 th century, and most of the buildings ranged from that time to the 17 th century. It was rather small, isolated, on top of a hill, which was pretty impressive in the overall flat landscape. About two or three times a year, they hosted medieval themed gatherings, encouraging people to come in costume, or rent some. Most of the town's activity was artisanal, and the main income was through tourism, which was fairly well developed. Going there truly felt like going back in time, as they made a big deal of using as little modern technology as possible, to give the “most authentic medieval experience of the country”. As such, it was an almost unavoidable checkpoint for every medieval history student in my university, and trips were organized every year, for the midsummer fest. I actually dreaded meeting some of my students today. I knew I would get no peace for  _months_ if I was spotted wearing that outfit.

We stopped a little outside the city, in a dedicated parking lot. There was a little train to make the rest of the way, all in favor of authenticity. That bothered Vlad a little, and he ranted about how if they wanted historical accuracy, they should have brought a hay cart and horses, that steam-powered locomotives were only invented well into the 18 th century. When Leah told him this train was actually electric, he let out an outraged scoff. Oh, he was going to be  _unbearable_ the whole day, wasn't he ?

We took the historically incorrect train, getting some compliments from the crew, themselves in costume. I think they assumed we were actors hired by the city, which Leah played into with enthusiasm. She got used to her attire pretty quick, including the heels, which was much more than I could say for myself. As we went onto the cobblestone streets, she had no trouble trotting about, I had to hold onto Vlad's arm not to risk breaking an ankle, which seemed to delight him. I couldn't say I completely hated it either.

Every time we crossed a group of actors, we chatted a bit, and he spent the ten minutes following each encounter pointing out the inaccuracies in their costumes. He punctuated it with anecdotes of his time in Italy in the 1550s, which had Leah think he was really into character. When he talked about his affair with a Leonardo da Vinci, she burst out laughing, and he gave me a sideway glance, perfectly knowing I couldn't lose my mind until we were alone. It seemed like he had done everything, witnessed every historical moment from the day he died to the 19 th century. According to what he had told me, his assassination attempt had him miss most of the 1900s, including both World Wars, which he was pretty pissed about when he finally rose again in 1953.

Even if he complained about details, I could tell he genuinely enjoyed the occasion. The way he carried himself inspired confidence, a hand on the pommel of his sword, the other arm focused on helping me stay in a relatively upright position. I got used to the shoes faster than I thought, but kept on pretending to be terribly at risk. I think he knew, but still kept playing into it.

At around noon, we arrived at the jousting lists, which took place underneath the city walls. Even Vlad had pretty much nothing to say against it, but then again, he hadn't made a comment in a while, only focusing on entertaining us with his anecdotes. Against the walls, they had built stands and placed chairs and benches. A couple, posing as King and Queen, were seated in a podium, a bit higher than the rest. Vlad suddenly excused himself, telling us to take a seat without him. Before he left, he handed me a fine square of silk, embroidered in red and gold. I took it, confused, but before I could ask for explanations, Leah caught my arm and dragged me off. Suspecting she was somehow in on this, I took a seat, keeping my eyes peeled for any incoming fuckery.

“So, apparently, this is actual jousting”, Leah told me, reading a pamphlet she picked up at the reception booth earlier.

“What do you mean, actual jousting ?”

“There's an equestrian center near here that has a jousting program, this doubles as a competition”, she clarified, visibly excited. “Not that there's a lot of them, but some of the contenders are coming from all over Europe, from what that thing says ! That's why I didn't want to miss it !”

Well, this faire surely took off in the last couple of years. Now that I thought about it, historical reenactment was getting pretty popular, these days. I couldn't help but worry, though, knowing how many horrific jousting accidents there had been in history, killing nobodies and Kings alike. Trumpets announced the beginning of the tournament, and the crowd started cheering. The bleachers were full, and a lot of people were standing on the sidelines to watch the show. An announcer started a little presentation, confirming that the jousting would not be acting, but an actual professional competition. Contenders came from Germany, Hungary, Italy and Switzerland, which didn't surprise me all that much, given the overall enthusiasm for medieval history in those countries.

The first contenders arrived, in full armor, their horses pawing at the ground, raising clouds of dust. They passed each other a few times, just for show, then were given their lances. Under the raging cheers of the crowd, they spurred their horses, and rammed into each other's shields a first time, went around, and back again. This time, one was thrown off his mount, his opponent's lance breaking in the process, and crashed into the sand in a clatter of metal. The victor raised the remains of his spear under the acclamations of the public.

A couple of more contenders confronted each other, sporting their country's colors. At some point, however, a rider came into the field, mounted on a dark horse, wearing a dark armor, which I didn't take long to recognize. Blackened iron, gilded, and chiseled, battle-worn, but still gloriously shining under the midday sun. On the chest piece , stylized, the very recognizable coat of arms of House Draculesti of Wallachia.


	13. Chapter 13

The Dark Knight came up to me, and Leah gave me a knowing look. I stood up, nervously glancing around me, and handed him my handkerchief. He took hold of it, and carried it to his helmet as to kiss it. The crowd cheered loudly. They must have thought it was  part of the entertainment. I still felt the heat rise to my cheeks. Gods, maybe it actually was a calculated  plot, damn Leah and her scheming. If I trusted the look of the 'Royals', over on the opposite bleachers, not everyone knew... He tied the scarf around the grip of his lance, and I could swear I saw two lights gleam into the darkness of the helmet. I sat back down as he left, feeling dozens of looks on me as I tried to maintain some composure. Act the  part . Be a noble lady. Think... Catherine de' Medici. There.

Vlad had his horse come into place with ease, as I barely saw him touch the reins. His adversary, ironically, was wearing red, mounted on a white horse, and looked massive compared to the slender, elegant silhouette of the dark rider at the other end of the jousting lists. I couldn't help but feel worried. He supposedly didn't risk anything, but the lances were  _wooden_ , for hell's sake. That's just taunting the Devil. Or God, maybe, in his case. Taking a deep breath, I waited anxiously for the sound of the horn.

The riders spurred their horses. They passed each other, once, twice, and a third time. The Red Knight made a move, and I saw his lance miss Vlad by inches. Not miss, exactly, as I saw him lean slightly to the side. I could picture his smug smile. That poor guy had no idea what was coming. Turning back in a cloud of sand, glimmering in the air, they galloped to meet again. This time, Vlad ran his spear into the Red Knight's pauldron, nearly having him fall off his horse. He caught on at the last moment, and I could swear I heard Vlad laugh.

They waited a second at the end of the lists, the Red Knight making his shoulder roll, brushing off his coach as he apparently came to make sure he was alright. He sent his his horse full speed at the sound of the horn, his best efforts insufficient to avoid him the lance that crashed into his shield, throwing him back into the dust, almost into the stands, which had a few people stand back.

Without a second look for his adversary, Vlad untied the handkerchief from his lance, and raised his arm in the air in celebration, under the loud cheers of the crowd. He jumped down from the horse, giving the steaming beast an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He walked straight towards me, and took off his helmet. The dark waves of his hair cascaded onto his shoulders, prompting a few audible gasps. I could feel my heart close to beating out of my chest. He was a conqueror, a cocky smile on his lips, the sun playing on his hair and the gold on his armor. He discarded his gauntlets and gloves, leaving them behind in the dust, eyes locked on mine. I stood up, almost knocking over my chair, playing into the role I had been given. He dropped his helmet at my feet with a loud clang of metal, and knelt down. He held up the handkerchief, and I laid my hand on his, allowing him to rise. He gently placed the shawl on my shoulders, lingering along my neck, enough that I could feel my veins pulsing against the tip of his fingers. His eyes hadn't left mine since he took off his helmet, and even under the midday heat, I felt goosebumps spread all over my body. He trailed along my arms, and took hold of both my hands, which he kissed, still not breaking his gaze. My chest heaving, I understood a little bit better why ladies tended to faint more often in corset-wearing time periods.

He then stepped back, leaving the jousting area after a last look, a wink, and a hand gesture at a young groom, who rushed to pick up his discarded pieces of armor after him. A bit overwhelmed, I sat back down, as the presenter closed the event over the cheering of the crowd.

“He wanted it to be a surprise”, Leah told me, eyes glimmering.

“Well, it certainly worked.”

She laughed, and dragged me along to the contender's tents. I caught a glimpse of the Red Knight, armor off. His shoulder had a massive purple bruise, and I couldn't help but wince. I sympathetically smiled at him, and he responded with a little wave. A bit further along, in a white and blue tent, the groom was helping Vlad undo the last pieces of armor, and carefully packing them up in a suitcase similar to the ones that had been Leah and I's dresses. He noticed us and flashed us a smile.

“That was great, Vlad !”, Leah exclaimed, coming up to give him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder. “Damn, you didn't even break a sweat, did you ?”

“It takes a lot for that to happen”, he smugly replied, taking off his gam beson.

His shirt was open, and I found myself staring at his chest.

“Is everything alright, Eris, darling ? You seem a bit... hot”, he mocked, slipping on his vest.

“I'm fine”, I replied, looking away from both of them, as Leah seemed to revel in the whole situation.

He buttoned himself up, and I couldn't help but sneak a few peeks.

“Where did you learn to joust anyway, Vlad ?”, Leah asked, understandably curious.

“Well, I enjoy horseback riding, and the Middle Ages, what can I say ?”, he replied as the groom clasped on his livery collar.

The kid looked up to him in awe, which had me a bit suspicious. I narrowed my eyes at Vlad, and stepped closer to him, putting myself so that Leah couldn't see my gestures. I pointed at the boy with a nod, discreetly tapping on my neck. He took an almost wounded expression for a second.

“Eris, I care about my diet, I don't run around taking drinks from stable boys”, he whispered, falsely offended.

I hummed, not entirely convinced, and he draped himself in his cape.

“Aren't you guys hungry ?”, Leah asked, putting down the bracer she was trying on. “I'm starving, and I heard there's a huge buffet in the castle hall !”

“I have to say, I worked up my apetite”, Vlad replied, looking down on me.

I loudly sighed, and took his arm, following Leah outside.

~ ~ ~

The rest of the day was tiring, at least for me, as Vlad obviously didn't ever feel fatigued, and Leah was endlessly fueled by what could only be rainbows and kitten unicorns. Night started falling the sky taking vivid colors as we made our way to the town square, lit by candles and a large bonfire. A band was playing dancing music, and the air was filled with indistinct chattering and laughter. Leah holding onto my arm, Vlad taken in one of his heist stories, my heart felt so full, I was physically unable to stop smiling.

“Oh, I see something that needs my attention”, Leah suddenly exclaimed. “See you later, you two.”

She let go of my arm, freed a few strands of hair to frame her face, and cheerfully strolled to the bar. Her confidence astounded me.

“I like her”, Vlad told me with a little laugh.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Tell me, did you ever get to practice your dancing ?”, he asked, innocently.

“Oh, no.” I tried to get away. “I'm not dancing ! You got me once, but not twice !”

“Oh, I think I am.”

He caught my hand, and brought us close to the fire, indifferent to my protestation. Once arrived, he had me spin around, and brought me back against his chest. Feeling his breath against my neck, I forgot how to speak a second.

“Follow my lead, I promise I will be less... Boorish than last time.”

I groaned, and relaxed in his arms. I had to focus every fiber of my being not to trip on the pavement with my shoes, but Vlad actually supported me so much I felt half my weight was lifted off. I never liked dancing, to be honest. I had a terrible sense of rhythm, and it reminded me awfully of some family gatherings I'd rather forget.

With Vlad, it felt... Different. Not great, mind you, it still was a bit aggravating, but I started to understand why people like it so much. Vlad picked me up like I weighed nothing, and spun me around. I couldn't help but laugh, and he joined me. His eyes were gleaming with the light of the flames. The music faded out to a slower tune. Vlad slowly put me down, keeping a hand on my waist, the other looking for mine. I intertwined my fingers with his, letting him pull me close, trying to breathe away the erratic beating of my heart.

“I can hear that, you know”, he teased.

I pouted at him. “Then close your ears, it's embarrassing.”

“I would rather say endearing.”

I looked up at him. He wanted to look smug, but most of his expression was tender, calm. I could have looked into his eyes for hours, the deep blue, washed over with the bright gold of the fire. Every step, he kept me close, only letting me go to spin me around, slowly, only enough to make the skirt flare. It might have looked beautiful to watch, if we hadn't been the only two people there, dancing around the candles.

“I want you to feel safe, with me.”

His voice was gentle, his gaze, even more so.

“I do”, I told him, moving my hand from his shoulder to cup his face.

He closed his eyes a second, leaning into my palm. I brushed my thumb across his cheekbone. Cold, soft.

“I have come to... care a great deal about you”, he continued.

“I can see that happening, me being a giant, walking Bloody Mary”, I retorted.

“Do you always resort to humor when someone tries to be serious with you ?”

He was smiling.

“I just- I don't know how to respond to that-”

“Then don't.”

He let go of my hand, leaving it placed on his chest, and slid his into my hair.

“You're going to mess up the-”

“I don't care.”

Freeing his arms, he lifted me up. I was so close I couldn't focus on the details of his face. The tip of his nose brushing against mine, his breath, short, trembling. He was waiting, expectantly. Whispered my name. My feet hovering above ground, my heart beating so hard in my chest it was almost painful, I closed my eyes, and- got a phone call.

“It's Leah's ringtone”, I said.

She never called if it wasn't urgent. Vlad put me down, and I glanced around. She was nowhere to be seen, which would explain why she felt the  _need_ to call at that exact moment. When I reached my phone through the layers of fabric, it already stopped ringing.

“It's not like her”, I started, starting to get nervous.

“Eris, do not panic”, Vlad told me, his voice somewhat calming my nerves. “She was with someone, wasn't she ?”

I did get a glimpse at her, while we were still dancing. She was at the bar, chatting up a woman in men's period costume.

“Yeah, but not well. She had very long, silver-ish hair, I think. Fair skin.”

If it was possible, Vlad paled, and gripped my shoulders.

“Call her again, now.”

His tone beckoned urgency, and I obeyed immediately. She picked up fast, but her voice didn't greet me.

“She looks so pretty, don't you think ? Better run fast, before it flows out. Garden overlooks, ten minutes.”

The hanging up tone knocked the wind out of my chest, and I almost fell to my knees. Vlad enquired about the call. I didn't even reply, and ran to the bar, asking for a map of the city, almost hysterical. Someone handed me a folded over leaflet. I thanked him, and quickly tried to find my way around the maze of streets. Right, left, left, up stairs, big door, left, and straight across. I tucked the map in the lacing of my dress, and started running, Vlad following without question. I cursed when I almost fell, and slipped off the cursed shoes, running barefoot into the streets. Thankfully, most of the tourists were gone, and no one crossed my way.

“Tell me where to go, I can get there faster”, Vlad told me.

“Garden overlook”, I hissed.

He nodded, and next thing I knew, he vanished. I kept on running, cursing at the corset making my breath short. I don't think I ever climbed stairs that fast in my entire life, and hurried through the huge door, carved into the high walls surrounding the gardens. As I tried to work the handle, to find it locked. Fuck !

Considering the height of the wall, I looked around for another way in. Luckily for me, it wasn't higher than a dozen feet, and I was a decent climber. Hiking up my skirts, I placed a foot on a ledge, and caught on to a space made by a missing brick. As I was almost halfway up, the door creaked on its hinges, and Vlad appeared in the frame.

“What in the name of all things Unholy do you think you are doing ?”, he cursed.

“Finding a solution !”

He urged me to jump down, and I did, leaving him to catch me. Not losing any time, we rushed into the gardens. Left, straight across. I finally found two silhouettes, standing next to the wall, on the overlook. I tried to cry out Leah's name, came out empty. As I arrived, she turned to face me, a look of utter incomprehension on her features. She was fine. Fine ! Panting, I tried to catch my breath. She let go of the other woman's hand, and rushed towards me, putting her hands to the sides of my face.

“Eris, what happened ? What's wrong ?”

What's wrong ? Leah, you- Oh. I can't speak. I tried breathing in, wheezing, and started feeling lightheaded. Vlad's arms wrapped around me, and I noticed I was falling. Going limp, I looked over at Leah. Her lips were moving, yet I couldn't hear her words. I felt a cool hand slip under my bodice, a ripping sound, and air rushed to my lungs. I took a moment to take my breath back, and glanced around. Vlad was holding me, but his look was directed elsewhere. Sitting on the parapet, the woman stared right back. The more I regained consciousness, the more I could make out her features. She was athletic, tall, and had incredibly long, silver hair, gleaming under the moonlight. Her eyes were an icy blue, and her pupils were two tiny specs of light at the center of the iris. A glance, and she terrified me. As I took some of my strength back, I slipped my hand into my skirts, and pulled out my gun. Leah had an exclamation of surprise, and I directed the barrel directly at the woman.

“Oh, Eris”, she laughed. “You must be much more naïve than I thought, to think this would do you any good.”

She hopped off, and started walking toward us.

“And you, too cocky”, I replied, pulling the hammer back, finger on the trigger.

“Carmilla, stop.”

Vlad's voice was much darker than I had ever heard it. I had never heard him angry, and I never really wanted to. The woman, obeyed, standing at a respectable distance from us. I didn't lower my weapon, still leaning against Vlad for support. For once, Leah seemed completely speechless.

“What do you want ?”, he asked, seemingly calm, holding an arm around me.

“What do I want, Drac ?”, she purred, taking a step forward. “Well, for starters, some introductions. If I didn't know you better, I'd almost think you didn't want me meeting your latest pets.”

“Don't”, he snapped at her.

“Fine, your friends, if that's what you call your snacks, these days”, she sighed, shrugging.

“Carmilla, I am giving you one, and only one warning. Leave.”

I felt his hand clench.

“Leave ? I'm not here because I enjoy your company, especially when you're in one of your phases, Drac.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her face taking a deadly serious expression. “I'm here because the Council sends me, because they know I'm the only one who has the slightest chance of making you come to your fucking senses.”

“What I do in my free time is no concern of the Council, which I preside, might I remind you ?”

He spoke through his teeth, seething with anger. His arm coiled tighter around me, almost hurting me.

“That you presided, past tense”, she jabbed. “Since that stupid fucking incident, more than a century ago, you haven't gone to any meeting, any reunion, not even responded to any damn fucking letter ! I had to do your job, while you what ? Sulked and brooded in your castle, and flirted around with mortals ?”

“Do not push me, Carmilla.”

She ran her hands through her hair, grasping at it, and started pacing.

“No, I think I will push you !”, she shouted. “You left us alone, for your own selfish fucking reasons, and the moment you finally decide to get out of your what, ongoing midlife crisis ? You start wreaking havoc, and putting MINA back on our asses, when we spent  _decades_ putting them off track !”

“'Wreaking havoc' ? You call going to Renaissance faires 'wreaking havoc' ?”, he snapped with a dry laugh.

“I call butchering mortals by the dozen wreaking havoc !”

She was seething with anger, but her face betrayed a complete, and utter disbelief. She thought it was him too. Vlad seemed to have regained some composure, his grip on me softening as evidence.

“Does everyone here think I am some sort of rabid animal ?”, he asked.

He was met with silence.

“I don't, but again, I don't understand what the fuck is going on”, Leah intervened.

“Well, that's one out of three”, Vlad sneered.

“Are you denying it, Drac ?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I am neither an idiot, nor some kind of un-tamed blood-thirsty beast”, he snapped. “I haven't killed anyone in some time, actually, if that's of any interest to you.”

Carmilla seemed to consider Vlad's response. My hand was shaking from holding the gun so long. She threw her hands up.

“Fine. Let's say I believe you.” She stepped forward, glowering at me when I raised the gun again. “I've seen the pictures, I've been to half the scenes. No mortal was behind those murders.”

She suddenly looked worried, and Vlad softly had me lower the gun. A glance at him made me realize he had the same look, which was not reassuring.

“In truth, I wanted to believe it was you”, she admitted. “I didn't want to think about the alternative.”

“It is impossible, though”, Vlad flatly stated. “We made sure of it.”

“Alright, are you ever going to tell us what the fuck is going on ?”, Leah snapped, fists on her hips.

Carmilla turned towards her, lowly hissing.

“What is going on”, Vlad interrupted. “Is that the Elder is back.”

“The Elder ?”, I asked, not sure I really wanted a response.

“He created most of us”, Vlad explained. “I have no idea how old he is, could be millenia. He started going mad, wanting more power, and planned a human genocide.”

“He turned Vlad to be his most powerful weapon”, Carmilla continued. “The legendary Impaler, infused with the strength and unending life of immortals. As for me, I was made by one of the Elder's first creations. As I was apparently the only one figuring out that a world without humans let very little dinner opportunities, I knocked some sense into this one, and we murdered the Elder.”

“Not very well, it seems”, Vlad somberly commented. He held me a bit tighter against him.

“Well, at least, the reason why he came back now is obvious”, Carmilla stated, looking straight at me. “He found the perfect way to torture you.”

She took a pause, and looked up at him, a hint of disappointment behind her cold eyes.

“He finally found someone you love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this chapter concludes Act II ! I'll be taking a short break, but I'll be back soon with more chapters !


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here is the Opening chapter of the Second Act !

The ride to Vlad's estate was eerily silent. Nestled on the backseat, hugging my knees to my chest, I tried to find some comfort in the pale light of the moon, bathing the countryside in a silver haze. I felt like I was wrapped in cotton, sounds coming off muffled to my ears, filled with the low humming of the car. Vlad and Carmilla were whispering to each other, and beside me, Leah seemed completely lost in thought. She had a lot to process, after all. Maybe I should have told her sooner...

To the valleys succeeded an endless plain, covered in fields and woods, and the occasional farm. Not that far over the horizon, I could barely make out the dark, shimmering line of the sea. It grew as we left the main road, following a smaller one, that soon converted to a paved path, barely large enough to let the car pass. We crossed a large iron gate, opening a mossy stone wall. The inside was wild, the wind sweeping across tall grass, overrun by wild flowers and poppies. Tall umbrella pines cast a moving shadow under the full moon. At the end of the path stood a large house, practically a mansion. The walls were white, large limestone blocks neatly laid out at the corners, while the most part were rough stones, held together with a thick layer of white mortar. A large portion of the wall was overrun with ivy.

The car stopped. I unfolded myself and tried to get out once before I remembered to take off my seatbelt, then trying to adjust my bodice to accommodate the now half open corset. Gods, my kingdom for a change of clothes. A quick look beyond the house confirmed that It was built over a cliff, the sound of the waves crashing down below soothing me like a lullaby. Leah's arm curling around mine quickly set me back into the present situation, and I took hold of her hand, hoping to be reassuring. We followed Vlad through the main door, which he closed behind us.

A good number of cardboard and wooden boxes piled up in the hall, unopened. Vlad apologized for the mess, arguing he didn't expect company so soon after moving. Still, everything except for the main hall was pristine, the furniture very well assorted, much more than in his Romanian residence. I figured he must have picked everything himself, as it all seemed in good accord with his usual sense of style. In the living room, I went to the windows, which opened on a large terrace, directly giving out onto the sea. Vlad's voice, softly calling out to me, had me turn back, and sit with them around the coffee table.

Leah was nervously fidgeting with one of the ribbons of her dress. Where should we even start ? I was obviously not the only one wondering about that, as the silence had now been so long it was far over the limits of awkwardness.

“So, who's gonna tell me what the fuck is going on ?”, Leah finally blurted out.

“It's... a long story”, I started, hesitant.

“Long as in ' _it started during my mystery trip to Romania I was suspiciously evasive about_ '—long ?”, she retorted in an accusatory tone.

“Yeah. At least that.”

She leaned back into her seat, staring at me. She didn't even look mad, she just looked disappointed, which was worse. Since we met, I never hid anything from her. I could say safely that she knew more about me that I did, and I never had felt the need to not tell her something. These last months, not talking to her had been a torture. She had been my absolute best friend for years, I hated lying to her. I _hated_ it.

And so I told her. About everything. From the beginning. Vlad had a few protests during my recalling of the Romania Events, and Carmilla looked pretty entertained by it. I could swear I heard her laugh when I told how I stabbed Vlad in the end. Leah listened intently, not once looking away from me. When I stopped, she seemed to take a moment, and looked around the room. Calmly, without a word, she stood up, and took a step toward Vlad's seat. She extended a hand, and swiftly reached for his sword, that he had set aside before sitting. Unsheathing it in an ample, yet controlled movement, she brought the tip under Vlad's throat so fast even he didn't have time to react. Surprise probably helped on that endeavor, still she had him tilt his head up, flat of the blade pushing under his chin.

Her expression was terrible, calm, controlled, yet I had never seen her eyes so dark, her lips pinched so tight. Vlad didn't move.

“You... Have hurt the one I love most, beyond all that I could imagine”, she stated, her voice trembling with anger. “You have made her suffer, and now, you tell me she could be in even greater danger because of your fucking dad or some bullshit ?!”

Her hand was steady, yet I could feel like the only reason she didn't ram the blade through his throat was because she knew it wouldn't do much of anything. I stepped closer to her, and wrapped my hand around hers. She held the grip so tight her knuckles were bone-white. I had her lower the sword, which she immediately dropped, and turned to look at me, eyes watering up.

“I-I'm so sorry, Eris, if I had known... I would never... Fuck, he could've... He could've...”

She held my hands enclosed in hers, and lost her words into incoherent sobbing for a second. Bringing my hands to her face, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and took a moment to calm herself down. Still holding my hand, she turned her attention back to Vlad.

“I was too quick to give you my trust. That won't happen twice”, she told him, glaring. “You put us into this mess, and you'd better handle it.”

“I intend to !”

“I'm not finished”, she snapped. “If anything, I mean _anything_ happens to Eris, I will hold you personally responsible, and I'll have your dismembered limbs impaled in my backyard.”

Carmilla giggled, to which Leah snapped and promised her the same fate.

“Now, you're gonna drive us home, and I don't wanna see either of your faces again, at least not until you handled the problem.”

“You can't be serious, you'll be safer here-”, Vlad started.

“Safer ? With you ?” She had a dry laugh. “Well, isn't that the funniest thing you've ever said.”

“At least, stay the night”, he insisted, looking over to me for backup. “I will drive you back as soon as you'd like in the morning.”

She was about to protest, and I caught her arm, interrupting her. “Leah, it's late, we're both tired. Let's just go to sleep, right ?”

She took a second, and gave in, nodding. She insisted we slept together, even though the house had a good number of guest rooms, which was, in retrospect, pretty funny for someone who didn't need sleep. He guided us to the room he had prepared for me, initially. It had to be about half my apartment's size, and included a tower at the corner. Huge bay windows gave onto a balcony giving out a magnificent view over the sea.

Vlad cleared his throat. “You will find a change of clothes in the wardrobe.” Leah gave him another killer look, arms crossed over her chest. He took his leave, but not before placing a light hand on my back.

_If you can slip away, I would like to talk to you._

Ah, the most terrifying thing to hear. Despite that, the way his voice filled my mind was warm, and comforting. I silently nodded, and he took his leave, his fingers trailing along my back, almost as if he resented to break contact. As soon as the door closed, Leah had a long sigh, and dropped on the bed.

“I can't believe you kept this to yourself so long”, she told me. She sounded almost hurt. “I mean, why didn't you tell me anything ?”

I joined her on the opposite side, my head laying next to her. “I didn't know how to. I felt you'd be safer if you didn't know.”

“But you weren't !”, she protested. “You could have been hurt, again, all because I had no idea what kind of monster-”

“He's not a monster”, I cut her off, almost without thinking about it.

She took a pause, turning her face towards mine, an expression of disbelief painted over her features, eyebrows furrowed in a way that didn't suit her kind face.

“Eris, please don't tell me you believe that !”

“I do. I'll give you that the conditions of our meeting were, well, less than ideal, but ever since he came here, he did nothing but try to make amends.” She groaned. “Come on”, I insisted. “You've seen it, he's been nothing but kind, and thoughtful, and actually a great help for my thesis.”

“He also eats people, Eris”, she remarked.

“He told me he didn't kill anyone since he got here, and I believe him.”

“Because he actually is trustworthy, or just because you want to believe him?”

By all means, she wasn't wrong. I mean none of her worries were anything I hadn't thought of myself. I sat up, and started un-lacing my bodice.

“You don't know him like I do”, I told her, softly, knowing this wouldn't do anything to convince her. “Let's just go to sleep, for now, I'm exhausted.”

She reluctantly agreed, and we disrobed, significantly faster than we dressed up. I though my corset would be ruined, but only the lacing on the back was cleanly cut, without even a dent in the ivory silk. In the wardrobe, I was almost surprised to find modern clothing. For the most part, he had my sense of style pretty well figured-out. Not finding any underwear was disappointing, as I had followed Leah's advice on not wearing a bra underneath the corset, but also a bit reassuring, to be honest. Leah opted for a simple plaid shirt, that would have been a bit large on me, and therefore fell almost to her knees. I found an oversize black pajama ensemble, made of the softest wooly cotton. I joined Leah under the covers, and didn't have to wait long until she dozed off, her breathing becoming more regular, and calm.

I carefully removed myself from the bed, and slipped into a large dressing gown. I slowly opened the door, trying not to make the floorboards or the hinges creak. I only opened it enough to shuffle through, and exited into the corridor.

The silence was only disturbed by the muffled sound of the waves, and my own breathing. I didn't turn on any lights, as the full moon was well enough to see perfectly well. I wandered back to the living room, and walked to the bay windows. One was open, leaving a cool breeze inside. Wrapping myself tighter in my robe, I stepped outside, wincing at the feeling of cold stone under my feet. Over at the corner of the terrace, Vlad was leaning onto the balustrade, his hair disheveled by the soft wind. He also had a change of clothes, and had only kept his trousers, his shirt, and his cape, thrown over his shoulders. I suspected this was mostly a question of style, as I doubted he could even feel the cold. His gaze seemed lost over the horizon, watching the moon go down on the ocean. As I approached him, he turned his attention to me, smiling.

“I knew you were good at sneaking around.”

“Please, I bet you could hear me breathing from the other side of the house.”

“Breathing, not so much, but I can hear your heart.” He was leaning on his elbow, head cocked to the side. Arrogant. I sighed, and took in the mesmerizing view a moment. No signs of cars, lamps, or electric poles in sight. Only the moon, and the ocean's soothing voices.

“Do you like the house ?”, he asked, softly as not to disturb my reverie.

“I love it.”

He laughed at the speed of my reply. “Well, I hoped you would.” He took a pause. “I am sorry about Leah, however. I know you did not want her dragged into all of this, and because of my blindness, she has-”

Before he could finish, I set the tips of my fingers on his mouth, effectively closing it.

“If anything, it's my fault. I should have told her a while ago, I just never had the courage to do it...”

He took my hand in his, strangely warm, contrary to what I expected. I felt my heart sink into my chest as a question rose to my mind.

“Vlad, I...”, I started, hesitant. He nodded slightly, encouraging me to continue. “What Carmilla said, back on the overlook...”

I became physically incapable of saying one more word, my heart beating out of my chest for no reason. No reason at all.

“You want to know if she was right ?”

Gods, that voice, that deep, silky voice. Maybe it was on purpose that he talked in a hushed tones, maybe to drive me mad, or not outshine the ocean singing below. I nodded, unable to look him in the eyes. He called out my name, barely a whisper. He let go of my hand, only to pull me closer, an arm around my waist, his other hand cupping my cheek. So warm... He took a moment, playing with a strand of my hair, sliding a finger along my jawline, and slowly running his hand along my neck. I couldn't help a gasp as a sharp nail traced over my veins. He hummed, seemingly amused with my reaction.

“Are you still scared of me ?”, he asked.

I couldn't tell if he really spoke, or if I heard him in my mind.

“No”, I breathed out.

_Really ?_

His lips brushed past mine, then on my jawline, and my neck. In a very poor instinct, I let my head fall back. The somewhat familiar feeling of his sharp teeth on my skin sent shivers down my spine. I closed my eyes.

“I trust you”, I whispered, leaning back onto the balustrade.

He opened his mouth, letting me feel his hot breath on my cold neck. For a second, his fangs pressed against my skin, soon replaced by a kiss, on the crook of my jaw, right below the ear. I giggled, and he closed his arms around my waist. Expectantly, he seemed to wait, for permission. For mercy.

I wasn't too long to grant it. Wrapping my hands around his neck, I closed the final space between us. As soon as my lips touched his, my heart stopped a moment, or several. I felt him sigh a second, and pull me closer. He was slow, intimate, perfect in every way. I felt electricity run through my body. His lips parted mine, and-

_Everything was red._

The sea lapping at my ankles, the sky bursting with gold and blood under a starry indigo. Everything was the same as I last left. I turned around, and found him standing back.

“Here ?”

“I told you before, wherever you want to be.”

I ran to him, and threw my hands around his neck, and he wrapped his around me, lifting me off the ground.

“Makes sense it's with you, then”, I whispered, and kissed him again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is under Leah’s point of view ! There will be a few of them from time to time, as I’d like to explore her vision of the events too, but don’t worry, Drac and Eris will be back soon ;)

I woke up in a cold sweat. Like right after a nightmare, although I couldn't remember anything from my sleep. Hair splayed over her pillow, Eris was still fast asleep. She looked so peaceful, her chest rising softly with every breath. Seeing her so calm almost allowed me to put my mind at ease with the whole situation. She was very far from being an idiot, or careless. If she didn't seem concerned with the man, maybe I could, or should, trust her judgement. She was rarely wrong in her instincts about people. Especially in that situation, I could hardly see her blindly give her trust to someone so dangerous.

Holding back a loud sigh, I checked my phone. It was barely 6am. The dark outside was still bathing the room in a blue haze, the imminent sunrise only betrayed by a faint blush over the horizon.

Knowing there was no way I'd fall asleep again, I jumped down from the bed, leaving Eris to finish her night. As always after a rough sleep, I was dying of thirst. Trying to make as little noise as I could, not to wake my friend or attract any fiend, I slipped out of the room, and made my way back to the living room.

There, an opening in the wall I already had noticed gave onto a dining room, and I figured I would be able to find the kitchen from there. As I crossed the door, I was surprised to see a modern, fully equipped one. I mean, for someone who didn't cook, that was almost suspicious. Shrugging it off for now, I found a glass in a cupboard, and went to the sink to get my nice, refreshing-

“Thought I heard something.”

I jumped, and dropped the glass, which shattered at the bottom of the sink. Quickly turning over, I noticed the tall silhouette leaning on the frame of the door. Letting out a long sigh, I waited a few moments to let my heartbeat to go back to normal. Of course she stayed. Her long, silvery hair was tied in a loose braid, softly swaying in her back. She traded her Renaissance outfit for something more, well, modern, so to speak.

“I didn't think I could scare you like this, please accept my apologies.”

Her tone was sincere, but a twinkle in her eyes, and the smirk settling on her lips told me otherwise. I discreetly glanced around for a weapon of some sort, if it came to that.

“Oh, don't worry, I've already eaten, I'm not here for that”, she laughed.

“Do tell, please. The suspense is killing me.”

That's right, dumbass, be sarcastic with the murder machine, see if that works out. She stepped towards me, and set her elbows on the island, leaning in.

“Let's say you got me curious”, she mused, smiling, her eyes narrowing like a content cat. “Not a lot of people would have dared threaten Drac like that. Fewer have done so and lived to tell the tale, actually.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “Lucky me.”

“Or, more likely, he's not the man he once was”, she retorted, wincing.

More than disdain, a twitch in her eyebrows betrayed worry.

“I _am_ worried”, she told me, as if she'd read my mind. “If we are facing the threat I believe we are, we should need Dracula The Impaler, not Vlad The Tired Grandpa”, she sighed.

Nothing about Vlad screamed “grandpa” to me, but then again, I wasn't that savvy on vampiric standards of fitness.

“Why are you telling me this ?”, I asked, starting to feel a bit curious too.

“Because”, she began, standing back up, “I need your help. I've gathered that you broke into MINA's servers once before, is that correct ?”

Ah, that. I confirmed, nodding.

“Well, every murder I used to attribute to Vlad in the region is immediately classified, and brought to them. If I should hope to find their trail, I need access to those files, or at least, a crime scene.”

She sounded frustrated. Being what she was, I could understand why she'd be a bit reluctant to go find her informations in a vampire hunter den.

“So you need me to find that information, then”, I suggested, crossing my arms over my chest.

She confirmed. I didn't give any answer, and turned to the sink, decidedly picking up the shards of glass, placing them on the counter. I suddenly felt Carmilla's presence close behind me.

“No, let me, you'll cut yourself-”, she softly told me.

Obviously, my finger slipped on the sharp edge, which easily sliced through the skin. Red started pearling at the cut, and I could only let a small “fuck” escape my lips. I froze for a second, maybe waiting for Carmilla's reaction as I felt her breath on the nape or my neck. I barely felt her hands grazing over my shoulders, one taking the glass from me, the other one wrapping around my hand, and bringing it up. Completely stunned, I didn't react as her tongue slowly ran up my finger, catching the drop of blood before it could run further down. She took her time, and as soon as she passed along the wound, a jolt of electricity ran through my body. For a second, I felt my knees give out, but she had me secured, her arm firmly around my waist. As suddenly as she started, she released my hand, and I was surprised to find only a fine white line where my finger was open before. I turned back towards her, and must have looked as confused as I felt, as she started grinning. Her smile revealed two sets of fangs, poking from underneath her upper lip, slowly retracting. For a second, I could have sworn her icy blue eyes were entirely red, but in a blink, they were back to normal.

“Vampire saliva has enhanced healing properties”, she explained. “Otherwise, we'd bleed people out every time we'd like a drink.”

“I just assumed you did”, I replied, feeling out the barely noticeable scar. She had a crystalline laughter.

“Can you imagine ? Humanity would already be extinct, if that were the case. Turns out you don't need much of our help on that.”

“How much blood do you need to be sated, then ?”, I asked, my curiosity taking the lead over my apprehension of the answer.

I couldn't believe I was actually asking those questions. Before she miraculously healed my cut, I still could have believed this was some very advanced role-play situation. There she was, leaning back on the island, lips slightly parted, a low, purring sound faintly coming from deep inside her throat. Those perfectly shaped lips, a perfect golden pink, darker than her skin, tainted on the corner by a drop of red. Her tongue darted out to clean it. I wondered if the feeling would be the same if I kissed her... Fuck, focus ! Focus !

“Let's make a deal, shall we ? You help me with my problem, and I'll tell you everything you wanna know about vampires. Sounds like a fair bargain, doesn't it ?”

I pretended to consider it a second. She played along, even though I knew I usually did a terrible job at hiding my excitement. Don't get me wrong, I was still mostly terrified, but how often do you get to do a study on actual immortal beings ? Were they actually immortal ? Could they eat anything other than blood ? Now that I thought about it, I never saw Vlad eat or drink something, ever. Huh, that should have been a red flag. I held out my hand, and she shook it in a falsely formal way. That had us laughing after a second. God, she had such a pretty laugh.

“Well, you sure changed your mind fast.”

Eris stepped into the room, and sat up on the counter. Her tousled hair was cascading onto her shoulders, her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. I suddenly was very aware of the way Carmilla's thumbs slowly brushed over my hands as she held them. I could feel my face go red. Ah, a taste of my own medicine.

“Leah was telling me how she'd help with my investigation”, Carmilla told my friend.

“Really ?”, she sounded genuinely surprised. “How ?”

“I'm hacking into MINA again”, I told her. “I know what to expect now, and Carmilla says it's the best way to get an edge on the bad guy.”

“The Elder”, Carmilla precised, a dark shade over her bright eyes.

Eris nodded softly, her face suddenly drained of all colors. She fidgeted with the belt cord of her pajama pants, doing and undoing the knots at the end. I couldn't believe those assholes at MINA actually showed her pictures. Couldn't imagine what that must have been like... Not pretty, I assumed. I shuddered at the thought that I might have to deal with those in the very near future.

“I'll go find Vlad, we still need to find a way to ensure safety to you both”, Carmilla told us.

She let go of my hands, giving them a squeeze before she left, the click of her heels fading in the halls. Still perched on the counter, Eris was intently looking at me, and she opened her mouth as to say something.

“Don't ! I'm warning you !”, I interrupted her.

She laughed. “Come on, I'm allowed to point out the irony.”

“There is nothing there to point at.”

“Sure, right. You look thirstier than her, honey.”

I let out a long groan, but couldn't help but smile. I mean, yeah, sure, Carmilla was the most mesmerizing, beautiful woman I had ever seen in my entire life, but did that have to mean I had any feelings for her ? No. I mean, one can _appreciate_ beauty without _necessarily_ falling in love. Iwas _fine_. I didn't have the time to further defend myself, however, as Carmilla soon came back, in the middle of an agitated conversation with Vlad, in something I assumed had to be a very accented Romanian. I had heard Eris speak it often enough, but hers had to be much more academic than theirs.

“Is everything okay ?”, Eris asked.

“Fine. I was telling Carmilla how the best solution would be that you both stayed here, where it's safe”, Vlad replied, insisting on the last word.

He somehow looked tired, his complexion almost chalky, eyebrows furrowed in a worried expression.

“And I was telling Vlad we can't let the Elder know we're onto him”, Carmilla insisted.

Vlad cursed under his breath, but Eris interrupted.

“Vlad, I can't stay here”, she told him in a soft, but firm tone. “I have classes, I can't just ditch my students like that. I have a cat that's probably tearing my flat apart because I didn't feed him last night, I can't go on a holiday unprompted !”

“Do you understand the gravity of the situation ? I won't have you end up the main attraction of a Penny Dreadful !”

“First of all, no one talks like that. Second, you gave me a vampire-killing gun for that exact purpose.” She hopped down from the counter, and took a look at me. “I don't know about Leah, but you are taking me back to my place as soon as I'm dressed.”

She took his hand in both hers. They looked so tiny next to his. “I'll be fine”, she almost only mouthed, looking at him, and smiling. He took a moment, then his shoulders dropped in defeat, and he sighed. “Fine”. Who wouldn't have melted at her face, and her little smile ? God, she had him wrapped around her little finger, didn't she ?

She proposed we both got dressed, and I realized I was still only wearing a flannel shirt, mercifully dropping past my mid-thigh. Eris placed a little kiss on Vlad's hand, and I followed her out. She almost gave the impression that she floated more than she walked, a dreamy smile plastered on her lips. As soon as we stepped into her room, I closed the door behind us.

“Alright, something happened”, I accused her. “What happened ?”

She took an innocent expression, but the pink on her cheeks fooled exactly no one. I pressed her, to which she still denied knowing whatever I was referring to. I leapt to her, making the both of us fall onto the bed. I pinned her down, and he pretended to struggle, which had the both of us laughing like schoolgirls. She finally took a deep breath.

“We kissed”, she admitted, avoiding my gaze.

“That's it ? One kiss ? Are you twelve ?!”

I was absolutely outraged. I mean, she had made me used to way better in terms of sentimental gossip. To say the least, she didn't have the most stable, or calm relationships, and I always loved to hear the sordid details. And now, she was blushing like a little girl because of a kiss. I mean, you would have thought a crush on an actual vampire called for a little bit more action, damn. She reached over her head for a pillow, and bashed me over the head with it.

“Oh, shut up !”, she protested. “It's been a long time, alright ?”

“Come on, you broke up with Sonja like two months ago”, I sighed.

“Three and a half”, she clarified, sitting back up.

Ah, leave it to me to bring up an ex and ruin the mood. They dated what, three years, before they started to “drift apart”. I always thought they were great together, and I felt like their break-up made me cry more than the two of them combined. They actually had to comfort me. They tried remaining friends for a while. That's when she started her burn-out, and decided to fuck off to Romania for a week. I never was one to question her process, so me and Sonja stayed out of it and only helped her plan the trip. Turns out, maybe we should have sent her the weather predictions for that week, huh ? As she was already gone, Sonja found a contract in the south of the country, only to come back in the beginning of summer. I figured that might leave Eris the time to heal. And I thought, as she still seemed pretty down after she came back, that the handsome mysterious stranger could help with that. Had I known he tried murdering her a week prior, I would probably have reconsidered.

We both got dressed, changing the subject to her next classes. She barely prepared them, given all that had been on her mind of late. She already had the dreaded meeting with Stephan Helder-Van-Helsing and Laurent, and the latter had agreed to tutor him on his master's degree, enrolling Eris as a secondary tutor. The kid was eager, and she was sure to get an email from him every couple of days, asking for her advice on his research, or sometimes, sending her articles he thought she'd like. She pretended to be annoyed, but I knew she found it somewhat endearing.

As soon as she was ready, she insisted on leaving fast, leaving me alone with Carmilla. I suspected this was some sort of revenge for my plotting at the faire, as she stepped out with a mischievous smile, and a wink. I gave her the finger, and she blew me a kiss. As I closed the front door, Carmilla came into the hall, holding a soviet Union looking industrial computer, and handed it to me. The bitch had to weigh ten pounds.

“Let's not lose any more time. We should get to work.”

“I can't work on this, Carmilla”, I told her with an apologetic smile. “I need my tools. I mean, they caught me once because I was careless. If they even notice someone is trying to hack them again, I'll be their number one suspect.”

She looked disappointed. “Well, what do you need ?”

“I have everything at home. Plus, it's always better to hide in a crowd, the city will be better.”

She nodded along, and clapped her hands together. “Let's go, then.”

“Vlad took the car, didn't he ?”, I enquired as we went outside.

She shook a set of keys between her fingers. “I went for a snack last night, and brought back mine”, she told me, and pointed at a blue pick-up.

It was parked sideways, and the tires had left deep marks in the white gravel. An old Chevrolet pickup, the paint chipping away to show a little rust, but overall, pretty well maintained.

“That's not what I expected”, I told her as I settled on the leather seats.

“Listen, Vlad likes his cars expensive and shiny, I like mine _reliable_.” she gave a affectionate slap on the dashboard. “I've had her for more than fifty years, and she's never let me down.”

Her comment made me wonder how old she actually was. I mean, Vlad was a few centuries old, and they seemed to know each other pretty well. She probably turned younger than him, as she didn't look more than thirty-five or so. She slipped on a pair of driving leather gloves, and started the car. The engine roared nicely, and I barely had the time to put in my seat-belt before she rushed off into the road. Instinctively grabbing the handle on the roof, I protested.

“Hey, only one of us is invulnerable in here !”

She assured me she never had an accident, which I seriously doubted. I was coming to regret Vlad's smooth driving, compared to speed maniac cackling next to me. She turned on the cassette player, catching the middle of Mr. Blue Sky. She started singing along, and I joined her, laughing as the sun finished to burn up the sky.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leah's pov.  
> Warning : horror themes, gore, and body horror.

Once I got used to the way Carmilla drove her truck like a bumper car, and made my peace with my imminent death, I realized she actually never was anything close to hitting anything. She just had that crazy energy that called for concern, somehow. When I was able to shrug it off, though, I was actually pretty fun. She kept a hand on the wheel, not seeming to pay much attention to the road at all, and asked me a lot of questions.

You'd think that would be the other way around, but she somehow seemed interested In knowing things about _me_. She wondered about my hobbies, my research subject, my favorite sound, or if I'd rather have licorice for teeth, or fruit-by-the-foot for arms. We ended up disagreeing on that matter, but to be fair, I figured licorice wasn't that bad for someone who feeds exclusively on blood.

She parked in my street, and I guided her toward a tall, 15-something stories high building I called home. It was old, but not enough as to be aesthetically pleasing like Eris', or even have an old-fashioned charm. Nah, mine was from some forgotten architect's mind from the seventies, who modeled the whole block out of the most boring version of brutalism possible. Like, I had nothing against brutalism per se, Le Corbusier buildings usually _slap_ , but this one... Wasn't it. When I first started to live there, I did the math of how many people could live in such a huge place, and the quick realization that it was well over a three-digit number gave me vertigo for days. As of now, it seemed perfectly normal, and I knew most of the people living there on a first-name basis. Carmilla was looking over the stark lines of concrete, dividing the façade in hive-like rectangles.

“Well, that's... Uninspired”, she commented, which made me laugh.

“You're nowhere near ready for the inside, then”, I replied, fumbling for my keys.

I buzzed us in, the strong, metallic noise of the door making her cringe. I myself took some time to get used to it. The floor was covered in some cheap imitation of marble, and the walls by some faded, yellowed wallpaper no one had bothered changing or cleaning in years. The roof, as was the trend back when it was built, was a dirty white rough plaster, that too never cleaned, as parging was obviously nearly impossible to wash. I called for the lift, giggling at Carmilla's cringe. As the red LEDs showed the lift's slow descent toward the ground floor, I knocked on the wooden frame a few times.

“What's that for ?”, the vampire asked, curious.

“Oh, it's superstition, so that the lift doesn't break down”, I replied, the absurdity of the ritual hitting me as I put it into words.

“That doesn't make any sense.”

“Never said it did !”

As the small screen indicated it reached our floor, with a small, rusty bell sound, I opened the door. It was the kind of elevator that had no doors of its own, but every floor had a swing door, opening onto the shaft. That always seemed like an incredibly hazardous system, especially considering the number of children I spotted running down the corridors every damn day. And no, there was obviously no security close to the doors, meaning anyone could just throw themselves down the elevator shaft at any given time. Miraculously, there had been no incidents since I moved there, except the one instance of a 60-something year-old man breaking his hip. The lift didn't go all the way to match the level, because of God knows what kind of mechanical failure, and he missed the step. Thankfully, the walls are kind of thin here, and his scream quickly alerted a neighbor, who called an ambulance immediately.

Still, there were always stories, the usual type you find in any buildings, really. One lady, scorned by her lover, supposedly threw herself down in despair, her cries still haunting the halls in moonless nights. On the thirteenth floor, the elevator would seem there, but as you'd open the door, you would only see the pitch black darkness of the shaft, and be pushed in. As I myself lived on that particular floor, I never had any instance of dying by supernatural forces in six years of residence. Not yet, at least.

While the lift went up, the familiar slight squeaking noise was the only disturbance to the silence. I propped myself against the wall opposite the door, and she had her elbow pressed against the same wall, nonchalantly leaning over me. I tried looking as casual as possible, but I could somehow feel like she delighted in the effect she had on me. I wondered if it was perfume, but she smelled strange. Not bad, mind you, but something unusual. I could have described it saying it was spicy, yet sweet, like cinnamon and honey in a lemon black tea, but it felt more like a landscape. The more I focused on that perfume, the more everything seemed to fade away, placing images in my mind. Dark, orange dunes, undulating under a deep blue sky, ripples of golden grains softly running across their quiet surface. Tall ridges of red stone, carved by the winds and ancient, long gone rives into maze-like patterns, so narrow the bright moon couldn't fit entirely in the gorges.

The elevator bell suddenly brought me back to reality, and though still a bit shaken, I didn't mention anything. I led her into the long corridor, bathed in an orange, flickering haze by the wall lights. I opened my door with the usual struggle, and as usual, proved the victor, pushing it in. Whoever put it on its hinges obviously did a marvelous job, as it was a bit tilted, and drew a circular black mark where it dragged every time I opened it. Seeing as she didn't get in, I quickly invited her in, closing the door behind her with a kick.

I regretted not putting a bit more order into the flat, even if I had no way of knowing I'd get a visitor. I mean, Eris did come over regularly, but we knew each other long enough that she didn't pay any mind to the mess, knowing where to step to not squeeze out a cable or something like that. It wasn't dirty, I just figured furniture was too expensive and not useful enough as to be something I'd waste money on. Most of my books were stacked in piles along the wall, which was arguably better than standing up anyways, concerning the warping of pages. My couch, tables, chairs were also the results of many DIY weekend with Eris, using pallets we found scavenging around big supermarkets, and a lot of time sanding, varnishing, and painting. Same for the cushions and the like, that we made ourselves too, buying a whole roll of cheap upholstery white fabric, and a metric ton of stuffing. In all, I think we did 90% of the whole house furnishing ourselves. It gave the place a singular look, very colorful, and a bit alien, with all the cables snaking across the walls, and the plants hanging all over from the ceiling or about anywhere. We also made up some overly complicated automatic watering system, that was more or less efficient, and only used whenever I felt like cleaning up the mess.

The point was, it was a weird-ass apartment, and I wondered if Carmilla would like it. She looked around, and I chose not to read into her expression. She went up to a suspended spider-plant, in a pot hoisted up by a hemp net.

“Did you make this yourself ?”, she asked.

“Yeah, the net and the pot, actually”, I replied, anxiously waiting for her appreciation.

She smiled, and gave it a little push, leaving the plant to softly swing around.

“I love it.”

I sighed with relief, which made her laugh. A bit embarrassed, I went to look for my tech stuff, and set it on the bar, booting up the computer. As it took its time, I went over the coffee machine, asking Carmilla if she'd like a cup. She only raised an eyebrow. Ah, fuck me. She said a polite “No, thank you”, yet sounded like she was lightly making fun of me.

The sound of the whirring machine covered the one, a bit more faint, of my long, high-pitched squeal of embarrassment. I always felt like the mere feeling of the hot cup into my hands was enough to start up a working mood. I set the VPN running, for a start.

“So, what exactly should I be looking for ?”, I asked Carmilla.

“I think the records of the latest murders would be a good start, if you can access those”, she proposed, moving over behind me, eyes on the screen.

“ _If_ I can access those”, I scoffed, and started typing away.

I did get caught fast last time, but I thought my only obstacle was breaking in, not being anonymous. That time, I wouldn't make that mistake. Their servers were very well protected, but then again, nothing is truly unbreakable. Those especially powerful often get cocky, and being cocky often allows for mistakes. Mistakes I did a great job exploiting, if I do say so myself. Breaking into the archive of MINA's wasn't that hard. I, of course, focused much of my energy being certain I could not be identified. Being inside such a huge building, with tons of different IPs and internet traffic, hiding was not that hard. I came to be pretty disappointed, however, when I could find no trace of any of the documents. Some uninteresting incidents, very easily disputed in terms of paranormal activity, a lot of recordings, all labeled with an identification number, all starting with the letters MAG, which puzzled me somewhat. I didn't think it over much, and reviewed the rest of the files. None matched those that Carmilla looked for. I groaned in frustration.

“I don't think they digitized those files yet, for some reason”, I told her.

“Probably because the case isn't closed yet”, she observed, and took a pause, thinking. “Which means there probably will be more to come...”

“What do you mean ?”

“Could you access the local police radios ?”, she asked, her confidence back on.

Nothing easier. Tapping onto those was fast, and if you knew where to look, pretty efficient. The only problems were the important traffic, which made it complicated to find only the information that actually interested you. Trying to follow murders, while having no idea where to look or when to expect it was a bit complicated.

I set up another post for my accomplice, and we got to listening, me going through the coffee pot, her changing her way of sitting every time I looked up at her. At some point, she was entirely upside down, her legs thrown over the back of the couch. After a while, something finally caught my attention. I quickly called Carmilla over, and she joined me, sharing my headphones.

“ _... complaint at 231 Cloverfield lane, nearby personnel please respond._ ”

“ _Officer Price responding, am in the area, i'll check it out. Do you have specifics ?_ ”

“ _Affirmative, officer Price. Got a missing person's report for one Edward Leeds, resident at 231 Cloverfield lane, appartment B, break--_ ”

“ _Go ahead._ ”

“ _Got a complaint for a smell of rot coming from Leeds' apartment just now. Possible Major Crime, use code zero._ ”

“ _Copy that, am en route. Over and out._ ”

I looked over at Carmilla. That sounded a lot like something that could interest us. She had the same feeling, and we quickly made our way out. I typed the address into my phone as we took the elevator down. It was a bit less than a ten minutes away, which meant less than five in Carmilla's manner of driving. We were then quickly on the scene, and found the police car sitting in front of the building. I advised Carmilla to park a little ways away, as her car wasn't exactly blending in. We found a spot in a parallel street, and hurried over to the place.

“How are we supposed to get in ?”, I asked my partner in crime.

“I have my idea”, she told me, and undid her braid to tie her hair back up into a tight bun. “Just follow my lead, and we'll be fine.”

Intrigued, I climbed the stairs along with her, and I opened the door, as to be able to invite her in. As soon as pulled on the handle, however, I was overcome with a putrid smell, so thick it started to choke me. I covered my mouth with my sleeve, and reluctantly stepped in, inviting Carmilla to follow me. The door to apartment B was cracked open, which explained why the smell was so strong. Even Carmilla seemed a bit disturbed, which was saying something.

I once again was the first to step in, allowing her to follow. She then took the lead, as we were soon spotted by who I assumed was officer Price. She just had called for backup, and looked pale as a ghost.

“This is a crime scene, you need to step out of the flat”, she urged us, sounding nauseous, but trying her best to be firm.

“Officer Price, we are private investigators for MINA. I'm sure you understand the reason of our presence here”, Carmilla told her, taking a silky, sweet tone.

The officer seemed surprised, and opened her mouth to answer, only an instant, and closed it, as if she forgot what she was going to say.

“We'll need to take a look, please go get some fresh air”, she told her.

The woman seemed confused, but nodded, and left. I looked over to Carmilla. She winked at me, and crossed the living room. If she had seemed bothered by the smell, she barely winced anymore. I felt like I was about to puke, even with the double shield of my sleeve and my hands, but still followed her. Morbid curiosity, maybe. I knew I would regret it. We went towards an open door, leading into a dark room.

The blinds were partly closed, only leaving a thin stream of pale sunlight through. Dust swirled and sparkled in it, and I got lost in the golden dance a second, not really wanting to look anywhere else. My eyes took a moment to get used to the dark. The apartment was ancient, the kind you see on historical TV shows about the 19th century or something. Wooden floors, high ceilings. I started by those, expecting they would be untouched by whatever horror was burning itself into my nose and lungs. That's why I was all the more horrified to see the dark stains on the white moldings, dripping onto the chandelier, where, like garlands, intestines were hanging. Bile surged up my throat, and I almost threw up on the floor. Taking a second, eyes closed, I swallowed, hard. I hadn't paid much attention to the noise, and I only now noticed the buzzing of flies.

I gathered myself, and opened my eyes back. Carmilla was leaning over the bed, hands crossed behind her back. Carefully, apprehensively, I let my eyes follow up to what she was observing. You could definitely tell it had been a human man, at some point. Mostly naked, though strips of fabric clung to the skin, blistered and red, weirdly swollen, like someone tried to stuff him without really knowing what they were doing. Deep gashes ran across the torso, splitting it open, the broken ribs sticking out or sunken in. Most of the organs were unidentifiable lumps of meat, coated in a viscous, yellowed liquid, soaking the sheets and the skin in a sick, brownish sheen.

The part that disturbed me most, somehow, in the atrocious mess, was the left arm. Don't get me wrong, the skin was as red and swollen as the rest of it, but didn't seem to have suffered the same rabid violence as the rest of the body. I got closer, my interest and curiosity momentarily overcoming my disgust. It seemed Carmilla had the same reflexion. No wound seemed to have reached that part, which was odd given the left had been... gnawed, like a dog's chew toy. Only distinctive sign was a single puncture, right where you'd take a blood sample at the doctor's office.

Now that I thought about it, there was surprisingly little blood around the body. A few splatters, here and there, but nothing of consequence. The sheets, that I thought drenched in it, were only imbibed in the juices a corpse produces in decay, and the rot set the dark coloring. If that poor man was killed for blood, and if it had been transfused rather than drank directly from the source, that still didn't explain the carnage.

“This is not him”, Carmilla whispered, almost to herself.

“What do you mean ?”

“This”, she stated, a bit of anger in her voice, “Is not the Elder's work. This... Undignified slaughter, this macabre display of gore is definitely not his signature move.”

“You think a human did this ?”, I squeaked.

“No. I think he already has created himself Hunters”, she told me, as if I was supposed to know what that meant. Seeing my puzzled look, she kept going. “Newborns, that get him the blood he needs to grow stronger, to survive. Who can't control their impulses.”

Her tone was so disdainful, it almost made _me_ feel inadequate too. She advised we should leave, and I heartily agreed, not too keen on staying in the rancid place. As we left the flat, we started hearing distant sirens. As we passed by Officer Price, Carmilla told her we were never there, to which she nodded, and looked past us like we disappeared. We made our way back to the car, and as soon as it was in sight, I felt nauseous again, and Carmilla barely had the time to pull up my hair as I emptied my stomach onto a street bin. Feeling dizzy, my arms shaking as they held onto the edges of the trashcan, I was only a bit relieved by her hand, softly stroking my back.

“I need to shower for a week, now”, I croaked after spitting out the last of the bile out of my mouth.

She laughed and opened the passenger door for me.

“I'd be honored to help you with that as well.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Professor ? Would you have a minute ?”

I snapped my head up, suddenly realizing I had been staring into the void for the better part of an hour. Popping out of the office's doorframe, Stephan Helder's familiar, disheveled head of dark blond hair of made me force a little smile. I passed my hands over my face, and invited him to come in. It was already late, but I knew he preferred to work in the school library than at home, which was understandable.

He stepped in, carefully closing the door behind me, as if doing it too loud would startle me. He put down his heavy-looking bag on the floor, and took a seat across from my desk, nervously bouncing his leg. I'd learned to know it wasn't from actual anxiety, but more of small quirk of his. It tended to unnerve me, but I did my best not to be concerned by it.

“So, what can I help you with ? Everything going fine in your classes ?”, I asked.

“Oh, yes, sure, everything's great. I mean, I'm not really here for me.”

He took a pause, staring at me. “Well, what is it then ?”, I pressed, puzzled.

“I-I was worried about you, professor, actually”, he began, avoiding my gaze by looking intensely at the leather-bound version of the _Odyssey_ , at the end of my desk.

“Worried about me ?”, I only repeated, hoping to have a bit more information.

“Well, you haven't been responding to my e-mails in some while, and, no offense, but you look sort of tired.”

That kid would be the end of me. I leaned back into my seat. He was a bit annoying at times, but his boldness was at the very least amusing. I smiled at him, hoping it would put him a bit more at ease, as I could see he was already regretting his last sentence.

“I _am_ tired, actually, but you'll see this when you'll try and get a doctorate”, I joked.

That seemed to make him have a couple of laughs, but he still had that crease between his thick eyebrows.

“I know you met my mother”, he told me.

Ah. He looked almost apologetic. Children seem to often have to find excuses for their parents, as they're often more conscious of the feelings of others, while adults mostly aren't. I knew that look, as I had found myself presenting it a lot.

“I have met Mary Van Helsing, yes.”

He shifted on the edge of his seat. “She told you about professor Balaur, didn't she ?”

Gods, more lies. What the hell was I supposed to tell this kid ?

“She did, although I'm... not sure what to think of it”, I prudently told him.

“I'm sorry”, he almost cut me off. “I'm- I'm the one who told her about him, I was worried and I didn't think she'd actually come to you. I know she can be... Well. You know.”

I wasn't even angry at him. I could have been, easily, especially given how on edge I was. I couldn't imagine what it would have been like. As children, we believe in monsters, hiding in the closet, or under your bed, lurking in the shadows. But at the very least, you had your parents reassure you, tell you they aren't real. That they can't hurt you. I wondered if his parents told him about all they did. Mary Van Helsing didn't seem like the sort to go soft, but I hadn't met his dad. With luck, he was a regular guy, and took care of not traumatizing his kid into anxiety disorders and paranoia. Although, on that particular count, he had been right. I wished he'd kept his worries to himself. Then again... That was an odd coincidence that he should show up exactly the semester after I met Vlad. I think he believed it was just that, a coincidence, but I was starting to suspect foul play there. Mary Van Helsing didn't seem like one to leave things to fate.

“Don't worry about that”, I tried to reassure him as best I could. “I work with medieval historians all the time, it takes a lot to scare me.”

He had a little laugh, sounding less nervous ans shaky than before.

“You should know”, he added, a bit hesitant. “My mother has her flaws, but she is rarely wrong. Professor Balaur is often around you... I can only tell you to be careful.”

I smiled, and promised him I would be. Gods, if he knew. He had a few more questions, about my class and the use of some cartography software that I knew for a fact was nightmarish to use. He then took his leave, while I remained seated in my office, without really having a reason to.

I say “my” office, even though I supposedly share it with two other doctorate students. They were rarely there, and if it was only a coincidence that we never crossed paths, they didn't seem to mind that I used half their shelves for my own stuff, and even their desks. More often than not, then, even here, I was alone. Now that I thought of it, my life since I finished my master's degree had been more nocturnal than ever. If you asked anyone who would be more likely to be a vampire between Vlad and I, I'd be the surer choice.

Realizing that I wouldn't be able to get any more work done tonight, I decided to take my leave for the day. It was close to midnight, and the last tramways ran little after that hour, so if I wanted to avoid two hours of walking, I should probably find a way to get that last one. I gathered my stuff, and slipped my laptop into my bag. Once again, at that sort of hour, no one remained on campus. The empty corridors seemed too long, too narrow, repeating my steps after me, just to spook me. You know, that feeling when you start thinking “what if someone followed me”, and the more you try to brush it off and make light of it, the more you want to walk faster, and dread looking back ?

At this point, I was practically running, when I forced myself to get a grip. I breathed in, deeply, and stopped. Standing in the middle of the main hall, only lit by pale moonlight, I controlled my breathing until my legs stopped shaking. Slowly, but deliberately, I turned back, my heart sinking into my stomach. Obviously, there was nothing to be seen.

A bit reassured, if not completely serene, I continued towards the exit, and stepped out into the cold night air. If the silence of the inside was eerie, outside, the multitude of noises the night produced were worse. A rustle of leaves, a gust of wind, howling and whistling in the crooks of the buildings. I sighed. Everything was _fine_. Creepy atmosphere never killed anyone, as far as I was aware of. Still, I walked as fast as I could, not wanting to linger for more than absolutely necessary.

_Eris..._

The voice made me stop dead in my tracks. It echoed in my mind, soft, and deep, but somewhat... Metallic. Scraping. Like rusty gears coated in honey. I wondered for a second if it might have been Vlad, playing a very questionable prank on me. He didn't seem like one to particularly enjoy practical jokes, except the occasional dramatic entrance. I elected to ignore it, and started walking again.

_Eris._

This time, the voice was insisting, more firm. It still seemed to come from deep withing myself, which was... unnerving, as it left no idea as where to look for it. I stopped once again. Bracing myself, I turned, looking back. Nothing, no one.

_Right behind you._

I swiftly turned around, not freezing for whatever miracle, only to gaze onto the empty campus once more. That was, until I turned back, and noticed a silhouette, over in the distance. It was tall, long. It almost looked like it... Shifted, undulated in the wind. Like something you see through great heat. It was dark, so much that I couldn't actually distinguish any particular features, except two bright dots of light, where its face would be. I didn't dare move, or blink. I was sure if I moved a muscle, or looked anywhere else, it might disappear, or move closer, like a sick game of 'Red light, Green light'.

_Eris._

The voice was even more grating, dark, so low that I could feel it vibrate in my bones. I had the gun. In a pocket I quickly sewed in the lining of my coat. I knew where it was, the movement I'd have to do to take it. Yet, I was unable to move. No matter how hard I tried, no matter the tears starting to stream down my face.

I think fear doesn't begin to describe what feeling was settling all over my body, from the pit of my stomach. It stretched over my every limb, like a fungus, spreading to every cell, encasing every bone in a mycellium of primal dread. The only sound I could hear was that of my own raspy, trembling breathing, coming out choked, and leaving me craving for air. I heard the faint sound of Leah's ringtone, in my pocket. It turned off.

It didn't move, yet was closer. It wasn't a thing. It didn't feel human, it didn't feel neither here nor elsewhere. A persistence of vision, engraved into my iris. For a moment, I wanted to believe I only fell asleep at my desk, and the whole thing was just a nightmarish delirium. Leah's ringtone broke the silence again, and turned off. Again.

It was feet from me now. I could make out the vague outline of a suit, that hung weirdly on the body. The body... If you could call it that. It could have looked like a human, if you only glanced at it, from afar. I didn't have that sort of luck, however, and was very privy to its deformities. The sleeve stopped at mid-forearm. A long, thin forearm, hairless, skin white as parchment, so dry it looked like it would crumble to ash if I touched it. The hands were swollen, too long, too... they almost looked like someone gave a vague instruction as to what a hand looked like, and it grew them from that description. My eyes fell on his chest. The shirt was too small, the buttons struggling to keep it in place, even though the thing was sickly slender. What terrified me was the darkness behind the holes, stretched out between the buttons. Not as if its skin was dark in itself, but an utter and complete void.

A hand stretched out, and still, I could do nothing but silently cry as a fingernail dragged across my cheek. Even though the movement was disturbingly light, and slow, I could feel the nail dig into my skin, and blood blend into my tears.

_I see why he chose you..._

Its mouth did not move. To be fair, it was more of a slightly agape slit than a mouth. The details of its face were fuzzy, shifting, like something... Crawled under its skin. I felt the other hand press onto my back, tearing through my clothes like paper, and into my skin. I couldn't even scream. The hand near my face sunk into my hair, and pulled my head aside, revealing my neck. The slit opened, ripping the skin at the edges as it became larger, revealing dozens of needle-like teeth, gleaming in the absolute darkness of the mouth. The jaw unhinged itself as it opened wider, and lowered into my neck, excruciatingly slowly. I wondered if it enjoyed seeing me sobbing in terror as much as it would enjoy killing me.

I had no doubt I would die, there and then. I started to feel the little points setting against my skin, on my neck, shoulder, my chest. They sank in with no resistance.

_What a waste..._

I don't know if you have ever had blood sucked out of you, but I wouldn't recommend it. It's not like bleeding out, after a cut. No. You feel your veins forcefully pulse from inside your body, the blood forced to turn back as it was supposed to run the other way. It feels like maggots, running inside your body by the hundred, and the worst part is the sound. That slurping, wet sound of tongue and teeth and the gurgling of-

_Everything was dark._

I found myself standing in darkness like I'd never seen before. I had been in caves, lights all out, and still nothing compared to this. I could see myself, but no shadows set anywhere on my body. It was cloaked in some sort of robe, that felt more like a shapeless, thick smoke. I felt some solid ground, though I couldn't have told what it felt like, even barefooted.

“Is anyone here ?”

My voice seemed to carry nowhere. No one answered. Was I already dead ? Was it what death was like ? Unending darkness and silence ? Nothing to feel, to touch, to hear ? The sudden presence that manifested behind me almost made me jump. It might always have been there, now that I thought of it. I didn't need to ask if I was dying. I felt at peace with it, somehow. A low humming filled the silence. Not ominous. Almost like a lullaby. I closed my eyes, not that it made any sensible difference. A small tingle ran over my limbs, and as it went up, I lost sensation to them entirely, until nothing remained, but the humming. Soft, until my mind, like an eye, finally closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I noticed I hadn't even posted this chapter !  
> Here it is, and I'm taking this time to announce an official hiatus from now (July 17th, 2020) to mid-september, to leave myself time to focus on post-grad work.
> 
> Hoping you enjoy the terrible cliffhanger, and see you soon !


	18. // Update (not a chapter, but please read me!) //

Hi everyone!

First of all, happy new year ! 2020 sure was a goddamn mess, and I hope all of you made it out as unscathed as possible.

Personally, I'm relatively okay, but I've had a tough time actually writing since the first quarantine, and for several reasons. First, because ADHD makes it hard to stick to a schedule and keeping interest in something long-term. That doesn't mean i'm not still interested in the story, or invested in my characters, but I'm going to be honest with you, I'm not satisfied with the way I've written it so far, and I feel like this reads more like a vent fic than an actual piece I'd like people to read.

Another reason is that I've recently figured out some stuff about myself, including the fact that I'm nonbinary, and now go by they/them pronouns. I now find it very difficult to write Eris as a woman, because she was a bit of a self-insert-ish character, and it makes me uncomfortable to keep using those pronouns in that perspective.

That's why I've decided to put that fic in a more or less permanent hiatus, and to **reboot** it. I'm going to work on the characters more in depth as well as the scenario, and ask for feedback from my friends before I publish. I really do care about this story, and I think I haven't portrayed the romance aspect in a way that is satisfactory to me in retrospect. That is the inconvenient of writing with your heart more than your brain, and though it can work in shorter fics or one shots, I can't find it in myself to keep going from what I've installed.

Sola Gratia will come back, I'll try and make the wait as short and possible, and to make it worth it.

Thank you so much for your support so far, it's really been wonderful reading all your nice comments. I really hope you'll still love the "reboot", and if I do my job correctly, you'll like it even more ! I will update this fic with the link for the reboot when it's ready, but you can follow me to make sure you don't miss it.

Have a wonderful day, stay safe and healthy,

Your author, Ulysse.


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